42
WINGS
"And—there is no hope?"
"Yes!" Again the swami smiled with sudden kindliness. "There is hope—the shadow of hope. Perhaps some day the great wrong shall be forgiven by the gods. Perhaps some day they will cause the two parts of his body, his physical and his astral, to blend into one. Perhaps some day they will permit him to regain caste—and to die! Daily I pray for it"—and, with utter simplicity, as he opened the door—"will you pray, too, brother priest?"
Thorneycroft inclined his head. He was an Englishman, a Christian—and a public school product.
But he inclined his head.
"Yes, swami," he replied. "I will pray. Every day will I pray!"
And the door shut behind him with a little dry click of finality.
