It is a justified distinction and to
my mind those who ignore it are to be despised."
He had answered her question with only a part seriousness, his whole
interest concentrated on the charm of her personality. But for once
her gravity resisted the suppressed merriment in his eyes.
"Are the natives, then, so contemptible?" she asked.
"Not exactly contemptible, but inferior. They have not our culture,
and whatsoever they borrow from us is only skin-deep. Beneath the
varnish they are their elemental selves--lazy, cruel, treacherous and
unscrupulous. No, no. Each race must keep to itself. Our strength in
India depends on our exclusiveness--upon keeping ourselves apart and
above as superior beings. So long as they recognize we _are_ superior,
so long will they obey us."
"It is superiority, then, which prevents every one except professors
from taking any interest in the natives?"
"Possibly," he returned, not quite so much at his ease. "One feels a
natural repugnance, you know."
"You would never have anything to do with them?"
"Not if I could help it."
She sighed and turned away as though his gaze troubled her.
"I don't know why--it makes me sad to hear you talk like that," she
said. "It seems so terribly hard."
"It _is_ hard," he affirmed, following her out of the curious, heavy
atmosphere into the evening sunshine. "There are a great many things
in life which, as far as we know, are inevitable, so that there is no
use in worrying or thinking about them.
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