At any rate, she went on unfolding her instructions to destiny with perfectly sublime assurance.
"It is only we women who can arouse India from the dream of the _Kali-Yug_.

It is only in a free India that the Royal sciences can ever be stripped of their mystery.

India is chained at present by opinions.
Therefore opinions must be burst or melted! Melting is easier! It is hearts that melt opinions! Let these men, therefore, take this Gray Mahatma with them to the United States and let them melt opinions there! Let them answer to us for the Mahatma's life, and to us for the work they do yonder! "And lest they feel that they have been imposed upon--that they are beggars sent to beg in behalf of beggars--let us pay them royally! Lo, there sits one of these men beside the Gray Mahatma.

I invite you, royal women, to provide him with the wherewithal for that campaign to which we have appointed him and his friend!" She herself set the example by throwing a purse at me--a leather wallet stuffed full of English banknotes, and the others had all evidently come prepared, for the room rained money for about two minutes! Purses fell on the Mahatma and on me in such profusion that surely Midas never felt more opulent--although the Mahatma took no notice of them even when one hit him in the face.
There were all kinds of purses, stuffed with all kinds of money, but mostly paper money; some, however, had gold in them, for I heard the gold jingle, and the darned things hurt you when they landed like a rock on some part of your defenseless anatomy.

Take them on the whole, those women made straight shooting, but not even curiosity was strong enough to make me pick up one purse and count its contents.
I rose and bowed acknowledgment without intending to commit myself, and without touching any of the purses, which would have been instantly interpreted as signifying acceptance.