Chapter Seventy-Nine
Enid, Genevra and Rosella were only dimly aware, when they kissed, groped and fondled one another in the dining room, reading rooms, corridors, and so on, that others were watching—as you might acknowledge the curious deer and birds watch you strip naked in a forest, but feel not at all concerned. (Why are you stripping naked in a forest, you ask? Reader, I will let you answer your own question yourself.) As might be expected, the likes of Gilda and Petunia were disgusted by their exhibition, whilst certain male guests and staff were stirred. Curtis, however, sneered openly and made puerile remarks, while Stoupes was enraged and unmanned by his impotent wish to metamorphose into a woman and join them.
Gangakanta, also jealous, felt disappointed in Enid for giving in so completely to lust. He watched the three of them stroke each other’s hair, whisper things, close their eyes, smile, and simply exist for one another, and he could not understand why Fate had decreed so much happiness for them, and none for him. He had long dismissed the notion that contentment was somehow tied to, by way of reward, good deeds. So what was it? Pure chance? Would these three vaporise, heads resting contentedly on each other’s bosoms, whilst he burnt in resentment, when the final hour arrived?
He tried to mentally calculate a few probabilities, but found the data wanting, and even his basic maths skills failed him. Two and two make four, he kept telling himself. Two and two make four. It made sense. But just to be sure, he searched around for four objects to work it out.