At least he would fight for his existence with her. A hard, blind resistance possessed him.

“I don't care about money,” he said, “neither do I want to put my finger in the pie. I am too sensitive about my finger.”

“What is your finger to me?” she cried, in a passion. “You with your dainty fingers, and your going to India because you will be one of the somebodies there! It's a mere dodge, your going to India.”

“In what way a dodge?” he cried, white with anger and fear.

“You think the Indians are simpler than us, and so you'll enjoy being near them and being a lord over them,” she said. “And you'll feel so righteous, governing them for their own