Noreen would much have preferred going alone, but her brother refused to entertain the idea.  Although she knew nothing of the suspicions of her Bengali friend entertained by Dermot, she sensed a certain disapproval on his part of Fred’s and her intimacy with Chunerbutty, and it affected her far more than did the open objection of the other planters to the Hindu.  Besides, she was gradually realising the existence of the “colour bar,” illiberal as she considered it to be.  But it will always exist, dormant perhaps but none the less alive in the bosoms of the white peoples.  It is Nature herself who has planted it there, in order to preserve the separation of the races that she has ordained.  So Noreen, though she hated herself for it, felt that she would rather go all the way alone than travel with the Hindu.

The thirty miles’ drive to the station of the narrow-gauge branch railway which would convey them to the main line did not seem long.  For several planters who resided near her road had laid a dak for her, that is, had arranged relays of ponies at various points of the way to enable the journey to be performed quickly.  Noreen’s heavy luggage had gone on ahead by bullock cart two days before, so the pair travelled light.

After her long absence from civilisation the diminutive engine and carriages of the narrow-gauge railway looked quite imposing, and it seemed to the girl strange to be out of the jungle when the toy train slid from the forest into open country, through the rice-fields and by the trim palm-thatched villages nestling among giant clumps of bamboo.

In the evening the train reached the junction where Noreen and Chunerbutty had to transfer to the Calcutta express, which brought them early next morning to Siliguri, the terminus of the main line at the foot of the hills, whence the little mountain-railway starts out on its seven thousand feet climb up the Himalayas.

Out of the big carriages of the express the passengers tumbled reluctantly and hurried half asleep to secure their seats in the quaint open compartments of the tiny train.  White-clad servants strapped up their employers’ bedding—­for in India the railway traveller must bring his own with him—­and collected the luggage, while the masters and mistresses crowded into the refreshment room for chota hazri, or early breakfast.  Noreen was unpleasantly aware of the curious and semi-hostile looks cast at her and her companion by the other Europeans, particularly the ladies, for the sight of an English girl travelling with a native is not regarded with friendly eyes by English folk in India.

But she forgot this when the toy train started.  As they climbed higher the vegetation grew smaller and sparser, until it ceased altogether and the line wound up bare slopes.  And as they rose they left the damp heat behind them, and the air grew fresher and cooler.