INDIRA AND OTHER STORIES
my hair. As I talked to him, I occupied myself in binding the coils afresh.
"You have completely misunderstood me," I repeated. "I am no wanton. I merely came to you because I wanted to hear news of home. It is so long since I have met anyone from our country!"
I suppose he did not believe me. He had the audacity to come and sit by me. I only laughed and said, "As you won't obey orders, I must go away. I must say good-night."
So saying, I rose to my feet. Seeing that I was in earnest, the poor man was in despair. He seized my hand. I angrily tore it from his grasp. But still I smiled, I smiled.
And yet I cried, "You are a bad man! Do not touch me! Do you think I am a wanton woman?"
As I spoke, I walked resolutely towards the door. My husband—I am ashamed to use the word as I think of it—restrained me by force.
"Have pity on me," he cried, "have pity on me! Do not go away. I am maddened by the
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