His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. He could have her in the car but she preferred a more private setting. They would suffer amazing hardships to hunt the snow-leopard; but in the Temple of Five Hundred Gods they would not take the trouble to ask the name of one! But this girl, she was alone. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. “I can assure you that it was quite unnecessary.
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