Page:Broken Ties and Other Stories.pdf/130

 had to add the sub-editorship of a newspaper to my other occupations.

Without consulting Damini, I engaged a cook and two servants. Without consulting me, Damini sent them packing the very next day. When I objected, she made me conscious how ill-judged was my attempted consideration for her. ‘If I am not allowed,’ she said, ‘to do my share of work while you are slaving away, where am I to hide my shame?’

My work outside and Damini’s work at home flowed on together like the confluent Ganges and Jumna. Damini also began to teach sewing to the leather-dealers’ little girls. She was determined not to take defeat at my hands. I am not enough of a poet to sing how this Calcutta house of ours became Brindaban itself, our labours the flute strains which kept it enraptured. All I can say is that our days did not drag, neither did they merely pass by,—they positively danced along.

One more springtime came and went; but never another.

Ever since her return from the cave-temple Damini had suffered from a pain in her breast, of which, however, she then told no one. This