"I take it you did not care for India, Mrs. Harming. I am so sorry. That must make your loss doubly hard. I was unable to go, but I always thought I should find it fascinating. Gabriel wrote such marvelous letters, and I have been reading a book lately about its history. Of course, most of what I know is after the British arrived there, but a little about before that too. I should have done it a long time ago...." She smiled at Mrs. Hanning defiantly, daring her to take offense or argue the issue. She came farther into the room. "I should have been so much more of a companion to Gabriel."

Mrs. Hanning drew in her breath. It was impossible to tell whether she was hurt or not.

Perdita knew what she had done, but she was too defensive certainly to retreat.

"Since I didn't go out with him, it is the least I can do now." She smiled, tilting her chin up a fraction.

"Naturally, if you feel it your duty." Mrs. Hanning smiled back with the merest movement of her lips. "Then no doubt it will be of comfort to you. I am delighted you have found something ... in your situation ... my dear."

"It is not duty," Perdita corrected her. "It is my pleasure, and naturally it is distressing, of course, because of all the suffering and the wrongs, the injustices—"

"You mean the barbarity of the Indians—the disloyalty!" Mrs. Hanning finished for her.

"No, I meant the injustices we committed towards them," Perdita corrected. "I don't think it is wrong to defend your country. I should want to defend England if Indian armies came here and tried to make us part of their empire."

Mrs. Hanning laughed. "That is hardly the same thing, my dear. The Indians are barbarians. We are English."

"I think if you read the accounts of some of our conquests, you will find that we are barbarous as well." Perdita was insistent. "We were just rather better at it."

"You are very young," Mrs. Hanning said patiently. "I think perhaps someone should advise you more suitably as to your reading material. It is obviously not sound. I am sure your intentions are good." Her voice dropped in tone. "But your doctor will tell you that Lieutenant Sheldon needs peace and rest, and a quiet and loving home, a wife to read of pleasant things to him, or to play a little piano music, not lecture on the history of India. Allow me to guide you, my dear."

"Thank you," Perdita replied. "I am sure you mean well, and it is very kind of you to have come, but I want to learn about India so that if Gabriel wishes to talk to me I can listen with intelligence."