’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy. When you don’t have any fingers left, I take a toe. After all, why need one look down. Bête, she told herself fiercely. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions.
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