"Detestable word! Have Civilians culchaw? I never studied the breed deeply."
"Don't make fun of Jack's Service. Yes. They're like the teapoys in the Lakka Bazar—good material but not polished. They can't help themselves, poor dears. A Civilian only begins to be tolerable after he has knocked about the world for fifteen years."
"And a military man?"
"When he has had the same amount of service. The young of both species are horrible. You would have scores of them in your salon."
"I would not!" said Mrs. Hauksbee fiercely. "I would tell the bearer to turn them out. I'd put their own Colonels and Commissioners at the door to turn them away. I'd give them to the Topsham Girl to play with."
"The Topsham Girl would be grateful for the gift. But to go back to the salon. Allowing that you had gathered all your men and women together, what would you do with them? Make them talk. They would all with one accord begin to flirt. Your salon would become a glorified 'Scandal Point' by lamplight."
"There's a certain amount of wisdom in that view."
"There's all the wisdom in the world in it. Surely, twelve Simla seasons ought to have taught you that you can't focus anything in India; and a salon, to be any good at all, must be permanent. In two seasons, your roomful would be scattered all over Asia. We are only little bits of dirt on the hillsides—here one day and blown down the road the next. We have lost the art of talking—at least our men have. We have no cohesion"
"George Eliot in the flesh," interpolated Mrs. Hauksbee wickedly.
"And collectively, my dear scoffer, we, men and women alike, have no influence. Come into the verandah and look at the Mall!"
The two looked down on the now rapidly-filling road, for
