Sir Ivor, not being interested in temples, but in steel rails, had gone
on at once to his concession, or contract, or whatever else it was, on
the north-east frontier, leaving his wife to follow and rejoin him in
the Himalayas as soon as she had exhausted the sights of India. So,
after a few dusty weeks of wear and tear on the Indian railways, we met
him once more in the recesses of Nepaul, where he was busy constructing
a light local line for the reigning Maharajah.
If Lady Meadowcroft had been bored at Allahabad and Ajmere, she was
immensely more bored in a rough bungalow among the trackless depths of
the Himalayan valleys. To anybody with eyes in his head, indeed, Toloo,
where Sir Ivor had pitched his headquarters, was lovely enough to keep
one interested for a twelvemonth. Snow-clad needles of rock hemmed it
in on either side; great deodars rose like huge tapers on the hillsides;
the plants and flowers were a joy to look at. But Lady Meadowcroft did
not care for flowers which one could not wear in one's hair; and what
was the good of dressing here, with no one but Ivor and Dr. Cumberledge
to see one? She yawned till she was tired; then she began to grow
peevish.
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