ingly and mincingly she brought out, from a plush case, a ring set with pearls.
"Look, Hemo," said she, "what a beautiful ring my Abinash brought for you."
Hemangini snatched the ring from her hand.
"Look, Aunt," she answered quickly, "just see how splendidly I aim." And she flung the ring into the tank outside the window.
The aunt, overwhelmed with alarm, vexation, and surprise, bristled like a hedgehog. She turned to me, and held me by the hand.
"Kumo," she repeated again and again, "don't say a word about this childish freak to Abinash. He would be fearfully vexed."
I assured her that she need not fear. Not a word would reach him about it from my lips.
The next day before starting for home Hemangini embraced me, and said: "Dearest, keep me in mind; do not forget me."
I stroked her face over and over with my fingers, and said: "Sister, the blind have long memories."
I drew her head towards me, and kissed her hair and her forehead. My world suddenly became grey. All the beauty and laughter and tender youth, which had nestled so close to me, vanished when
