So far there had been no talk of marriage on either side. There was some reason for Annada Babu's failure to raise the subject; a young friend of his had gone to England to read for the bar and the old gentleman had his eye on this youth as a possible son-in-law.
A lively discussion was in progress at the tea-table one afternoon. Young Akshay was not very successful in passing examinations, but he was not a whit behind more scholarly youths in his thirst for tea and for other harmless indulgences; so he too made frequent appearances at Hemnalini's tea-table. He once argued that the masculine intellect is like a sword and that even without a keen edge its weight makes it a formidable weapon, while woman's wit is like a pen-knife—sharpen it as you will it is capable of no serious task, and so on.
Hemnalini was ready to submit in silence to Akshay's preposterous contention, but her brother Jogendra likewise advanced arguments in depreciation of feminine intelligence. This brought Ramesh into the fray; he roused himself from his torpor and began to chant the praises of womankind.
In the ardour of his feminism Ramesh had finished two extra cups of tea when the bearer brought in a letter addressed to him in his father's handwriting. Glancing through it he was constrained to accept defeat while the argument was still at its height and he rose hastily to go. There was a chorus of protest and he had to explain that his father had just arrived from home.
"Ask Ramesh Babu's father to come in," said Hemnalini to Jogendra, "we can offer him a cup of tea."
"Please don't trouble," Ramesh interposed hastily, "I had better join him at once."
Akshay rejoiced inwardly. "The old gentleman
