It gives you a feeling of carrying your home around with you on your back, the way a snail totes its shell, and there are worse sensations.
"Now consider yourself a while in the mirror, sahib," said Narayan Singh.

"When a man knows how he looks he begins to act accordingly." Have you ever stopped to think how true that is?
There was a full-length mirror upstairs in de Crespigny's bedroom, left behind by a German missionary's wife when the Turks and their friends stampeded, and Narayan Singh watched while I posed in front of it.

Before many minutes, without any deliberately conscious effort on my part, gesture and attitude were molding themselves to fit the costume, in somewhat the same way, I suppose, that a farm-hand from Montenegro shapes himself into a new American store suit.
"But it is necessary to remember!" warned Narayan Singh.

"We should have done this sooner.

There should be a photograph to carry with you, because a man forgets his own appearance where there are no mirrors and none others resembling himself.
Henceforward, sahib, sleeping or waking, be a _hakim!_ There is a chest of medicines downstairs." By the time I had got down Grim had already changed into Bedouin dress--stepped simply out of one world into another.