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The doctor took a step or two up and down the veranda, polishing his glasses with his
handkerchief. It was clear that there was something more which delicacy prevented him from saying.
For a moment his manner was so troubled that Flory would have liked to ask whether he could not
help in some way, but he did not, for he knew the uselessness of interfering in Oriental quarrels. No
European ever gets to the bottom of these quarrels; there is always something impervious to the
European mind, a conspiracy behind the conspiracy, a plot within the plot. Besides, to keep out of
‘native’ quarrels is one of the Ten Precepts of the pukka sahib. He said doubtfully:
‘What is a difficult business?’
‘It iss, if only–ah, my friend, you will laugh at me, I fear. But it iss this: if only I were a member of
your European Club! If only! How different would my position be!’
‘The Club? Why? How would that help you?’
‘My friend, in these matters prestige iss everything. It iss not that U Po Kyin will attack me openly;
he would never dare; it iss that he will libel me and backbite me. And whether he iss believed or not
depends entirely upon my standing with the Europeans. It iss so that things happen in India. If our
prestige iss good, we rise; if bad, we fall. A nod and a wink will accomplish more than a thousand
official reports. And you do not know what prestige it gives to an Indian to be a member of the
European Club. In the Club, practically he iss a European. No calumny can touch him. A Club
member iss sacrosanct.’
Flory looked away over the veranda rail. He had got up as though to go. It always made him
ashamed and uncomfortable when it had to be admitted between them that the doctor, because of his
black skin, could not be received in the Club. It is a disagreeable thing when one’s close friend is not
one’s social equal; but it is a thing native to the very air of India.
‘They might elect you at the next general meeting,’ he said. ‘I don’t say they will, but it’s not
impossible.’
‘I trust, Mr Flory, that you do not think I am asking you to propose me for the Club? Heaven forbid!
I know that that iss impossible for you. Simply I wass remarking that if I were a member of the Club, I
should be forthwith invulnerable.’
Flory cocked his Terai hat loosely on his head and stirred Flo up with his stick. She was asleep
under the chair. Flory felt very uncomfortable. He knew that in all probability, if he had the courage to
face a few rows with Ellis, he could secure Dr Veraswami’s election to the Club. And the doctor,
after all, was his friend, indeed, almost the sole friend he had in Burma. They had talked and argued
together a hundred times, the doctor had dined at his house, he had even proposed to introduce Flory
to his wife–but she, a pious Hindu, had refused with horror. They had made shooting trips together–
the doctor, equipped with bandoliers and hunting knives, panting up hillsides slippery with bamboo
leaves and blazing his gun at nothing. In common decency it was his duty to support the doctor. But he
knew also that the doctor would never ask for any support, and that there would be an ugly row
before an Oriental was got into the Club. No, he could not face that row! It was not worth it. He said:
‘To tell you the truth, there’s been talk about this already. They were discussing it this morning, and
that little beast Ellis was preaching his usual “dirty nigger” sermon. Macgregor has suggested electing
one native member. He’s had orders to do so, I imagine.’