"I will not sleep in this town." "As your Highness wills," said Ahmed Ismail humbly, and he went into the station and bought tickets for Delhi.

It was on a Thursday morning that the pair reached that town; and that day Ahmed Ismail had an unreceptive listener for his sermons.

The monument before the Post Office, the tablets on the arch of the arsenal, even the barracks in the gardens of the Moghul Palace fired no antagonism in the Prince, who so short a time ago had been a boy at Eton.

The memories evoked by the little church at Lucknow had borne him company all night and still clung to him that day.
He was homesick for his school.

Only twice was he really roused.
The first instance took place when he was driving along the Chandni Chauk, the straight broad tree-fringed street which runs from the Lahore Gate to the Fort.