Olivia in India by O. Douglas
page 58 of 174 (33%)
page 58 of 174 (33%)
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"It's like an evening in England," said G. "Let's get out and walk home." So we told the driver to _roko_, and G., who had the money to pay him in her hand, got out first; at least I thought she was out, but she had paused, balanced on the step, and my slight push knocked her headlong. How she did it I don't know, but her feet remained in the _gharry_, while her head was in close conjunction to the horses' hoofs. I suppose astonishment at this feat must have numbed my finer feelings, for G. insists I bounded over her prostrate form, grabbed the money from her hand, and paid the man before I even inquired if she were killed. When I had time to look at her I was glad it was getting dark, and that we were in an unfrequented road. Her white serge costume was mud from head to foot, her hat was squashed out of shape, and even her poor face bore traces of contact with the Red Road. At first she couldn't rise, not because she was hurt, but because she was helpless with laughter. When I did get her on her feet, I found the only injury was a slight cut on the wrist, and great was my relief. It was a blessing that no native reporters were near, or to-morrow morning we would see in large letters: SHOCKING AFFAIR IN THE RED ROAD. ONE EUROPEAN LADY ATTACKS ANOTHER. My only fear was tetanus. We have been told such tales of a slight cut causing death that I hurried G. along until we burst breathless into a chemist's shop in Park Street and demanded "something to keep away tetanus!" The chemist gave us some permanganate of potash, and for the last hour I have been bathing the wrist, assisted by Bella, who has ruined two |
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