But it was the presence in the house that she missed, rather than the lover.

To-night, almost for the first time, she had really looked under the surface.

Insight had been vouchsafed to her; and in remorse she was minded to put the thing she greatly valued away from her.
She rose suddenly, and, lest the temptation to keep the necklace should prove too strong, laid it away in its case.
A post went every day over the passes into Chiltistan.

She wrapped up the case in brown paper, tied it, sealed it, and addressed it.

There was need to send it off, she well knew, before the picture of Shere Ali, now so vivid in her mind, lost its aspect of poignant suffering and faded out of her thoughts.
But she slept ill and in the middle of the night she rose from her bed.
The tent was pitch dark.