she was not engaged in rough household work. Contrary to custom,
she was not sent to her father's house three days after the marriage;
nor was the Bau-Bhát ceremony performed. But Jogesh was on the alert;
he managed to communicate with her by bribing a maid-servant, and one
morning Amarendra Babu's household discovered that the half-starved
bird had flown.

A year passed away without news of the truants; but, one evening,
Amarendra Babu was sitting in his parlour, spelling out a spicy
leader in the Indian Mirror, when, to his unqualified amazement,
Jogesh stepped in and unbidden took a seat. Amarendra Babu's first
impulse was to shout for help and eject the intruder with every
species of ignominy, but second thoughts are proverbially peaceful.

"This Jogesh," he reflected, "must be a very smart fellow, or he would
never have taken us all in as he did. It is better to be on the side of
the sacrificial knife than the goat that awaits its stroke. Why should
I not hear what he has to say? He would not have come here without
some excellent reason--perhaps he wants to pay up part of his debt
to me, or maybe he has some scheme with money in it to unfold. He'll
certainly try to overreach me again; but then once bitten twice
shy. I'll be on my guard." Then with an attempt at irony he asked:--

"What brings you of all people to my house? Have you got another
daughter to marry?"

Had Amarendra Babu observed the gleam which shot from Jogesh's shifty
eyes, he would have kicked him out at once, but he waited for a reply,
which came in honeyed accents:--