"It is all very well for you," Hemangini said, "for this house belongs to your near relations. But what about me? I tell you plainly I can't stop here." And then she held my hand and said:
"What do you think, dear?"
I drew her to my heart, but said nothing. The aunt was in a great difficulty. She felt the situation was getting beyond her control; so she proposed that she and her niece should go out together to bathe.
"No! we two will go together," said Hemangini, clinging to me. The aunt gave in, fearing opposition if she tried to drag her away.
Going down to the river Hemangini asked me:
"Why don't you have children?"
I was startled by her question, and answered:
"How can I tell? My God has not given me any. That is the reason."
"No! That's not the reason," said Hemangini quickly. "You must have committed some sin. Look at my aunt. She is childless. It must be because her heart has some wickedness. But what wickedness is in your heart?"
The words hurt me. I have no solution to offer for the problem of evil. I sighed deeply, and said
