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 engaged in talk with the Master, Damini would sometimes appear in the doorway and interrupt us with: ‘Srivilas Babu, would you mind coming over this way?’ without even condescending to add what I was wanted for.

The Swami would glance up at me; Satish would glance up at me; I would hesitate for a moment between them and her; then I would glance up at the door,—and in a trice I was off the fence and out of the room, An effort would be made, after my exit, to go on with the talk, but the effort would soon get the better of the talk, whereupon the latter would stop.

Everything seemed to be falling to pieces around us, The old compactness was gone.

We two had come to be the pillars of the sect. The Master could not give up either of us without a struggle. So he ventured once more to make an overture to Damini. ‘My little mother,’ said he, ‘the time is coming for us to proceed to the more arduous part of our journey. You had better return from here.’

‘Return where?’

‘Home, to your aunt.’

‘That cannot be.’

‘Why?’ asked the Swami.