Flory lay turning from side to side, his head
aching. He hated to see hismaster behaving differently from other white
men.
Sometimes she had even put love-philtres in his
food.
All other kinds of freedom are permitted. The
lightof the cold-weather evening was yellow and kind.
Andthose who do not drink it, do not drink it. He
had lived here ten years, and everyparticle of his body was compounded of Burmese
soil.
Just complicated, unmanlywhinings;
poor-little-rich-girl stuff? Sneaking,idling, boozing, fornicating, soul-examining,
self-pitying cur. Since then he had not even applied for home leave. It had begun in
his mothers womb, when chanceput the blue birthmark on his cheek. Someone like
MrsLackersteen, for instance?
Who would help him to livewith nothing hidden,
nothing unexpressed. His body grew attuned to thestrange rhythms of the tropical
seasons.
He wouldforget Burma, the horrible country that had
come near ruining him. Why did my master not send for me this afternoon? His body
grew attuned to thestrange rhythms of the tropical seasons. It was years since he
had enjoyed a meal. In thedark evening, after a quite idle day, ones ennui reaches a
pitchthat is frantic, suicidal. The ripeningpaddy, breast-high and yellow, looked
like wheat.
Is the water in your well good to drink,
thugyi-min? Teach thelittle sod what we think of him.
Something quite ordinary, quiteaccording to
precedent; but still dingy, cowardly, dishonouring.
Flory rolled over, swore, and pressedhis forehead
into the pillow. He did not see the years stretching out ahead, lonely,
eventless,corrupting. Ma Hla May affected to shudder at the thought. His sole
wishwas to get her out of his sight. Flory rolled over, swore, and pressedhis
forehead into the pillow. Then he put on his pink gaungbaung and musliningyi and
brought the tea-tray to his masters bedside. And Flory was glad to drop the subject,
anuncomfortable one which he wished had never been raised. Few of them work as hard
or as intelligently as the postmaster of aprovincial town in England.