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‘Thanks, I’ll remember about the tamarind,’ Flory said.<br />

‘Specific of renowned Chinese doctor, sir. Also, sir-madam, may I advise to you, wearing only<br />

Terai hat is not judicious in April, sir. For the natives all well, their skulls are adamant. But for us<br />

sunstroke ever menaces. Very deadly is the sun upon Europian skull. But is it that I detain you,<br />

madam?’<br />

This was said in a disappointed tone. Elizabeth had, in fact, decided to snub the Eurasians. She did<br />

not know why Flory was allowing them to hold him in conversation. As she turned away to stroll<br />

back to the tennis court, she made a practice stroke in the air with her racquet, to remind Flory that the<br />

game was overdue. He saw it and followed her, rather reluctantly, for he did not like snubbing the<br />

wretched Francis, bore though he was.<br />

‘I must be off,’ he said. ‘Good evening, Francis. Good evening, Samuel.’<br />

‘Good evening, sir! Good evening, madam! Good evening, good evening!’ They receded with more<br />

hat-flourishes.<br />

‘Who are those two?’ said Elizabeth as Flory came up with her. ‘Such extraordinary creatures!<br />

They were in church on Sunday. One of them looks almost white. Surely he isn’t an Englishman?’<br />

‘No, they’re Eurasians–sons of white fathers and native mothers. Yellow-bellies is our friendly<br />

nickname for them.’<br />

‘But what are they doing here? Where do they live? Do they do any work?’<br />

‘They exist somehow or other in the bazaar. I believe Francis acts as clerk to an Indian moneylender,<br />

and Samuel to some of the pleaders. But they’d probably starve now and then if it weren’t for<br />

the charity of the natives.’<br />

‘The natives! Do you mean to say they–sort of cadge from the natives?’<br />

‘I fancy so. It would be a very easy thing to do, if one cared to. The Burmese won’t let anyone<br />

starve.’<br />

Elizabeth had never heard of anything of this kind before. The notion of men who were at least<br />

partly white living in poverty among ‘natives’ so shocked her that she stopped short on the path, and<br />

the game of tennis was postponed for a few minutes.<br />

‘But how awful! I mean, it’s such a bad example! It’s almost as bad as if one of us was like that.<br />

Couldn’t something be done for those two? Get up a subscription and send them away from here, or<br />

something?’<br />

‘I’m afraid it wouldn’t help much. Wherever they went they’d be in the same position.’<br />

‘But couldn’t they get some proper work to do?’<br />

‘I doubt it. You see, Eurasians of that type–men who’ve been brought up in the bazaar and had no<br />

education–are done for from the start. The Europeans won’t touch them with a stick, and they’re cut<br />

off from entering the lower-grade Government services. There’s nothing they can do except cadge,<br />

unless they chuck all pretension to being Europeans. And really you can’t expect the poor devils to do<br />

that. Their drop of white blood is the sole asset they’ve got. Poor Francis, I never meet him but he<br />

begins telling me about his prickly heat. Natives, you see, are supposed not to suffer from prickly<br />

heat–bosh, of course, but people believe it. It’s the same with sunstroke. They wear those huge topis

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