one never gets half the appreciation one deserves. That's really why I came out to India as I have already explained. I thought that a temporary disappearance from the scene at home would be most salutary—for myself and friends. For there was no disguising the fact that I had been on view for quite a respectable number of seasons.
The heat as we landed at Bombay was something frightful. It seemed to settle down upon you as you left the launch and stepped on to the Apollo Bunder. It sort of gathered round you like a thick, stifling veil, and you had to fight to get your breath through it. I felt quite helpless by the time we had struggled through the customs. Marjory, of course, was worse than useless. She had been torn with apprehension that she would be seasick on the launch, but the only effect of her having avoided that humiliation was to make her collapse with thankfulness on the largest and most comfortable trunk she could see within reach as soon as she got on shore, quite oblivious of the fact that she was horribly in everybody's way. So we sent her at last with a handbag to sit in a carriage outside, while Lady Manifold, Ermyntrude, and I talked wildly to strange men of a strange and wondrous hue. Ermyntrude proved a veritable heroine, but of course Lady Manifold made most noise. She had once been in Portugal, she had told us on the launch as we neared the shore, and she knew how to manage these Portuguese. She waved her hand grandiloquently towards the crowd of Goanese, Lascar-like men upon the Bunder.
