Her own People by B. M. Croker

Was there a lower depth than she had touched? Her grandmother! Verona heard the word with dismay. Had she not yet reached the bottom of the abyss? Once upon a time she could claim no relations, but now their number was seemingly legion. With this thought in her mind, she followed with a beating heart and instinctive reluctance her mother, who, beckoning with the quick, supple motion peculiar to her class, led the way across a passage and verandah and down some steps at the rear of the house. Here, facing them, was a large square building or bungalow, its high roof thrown into sharp relief by the white moonlight. Mrs. Chandos paused for a moment and explained:

"Our house was once the manager's; that was before the Mutiny year, but it was not grand enough for the Lepells, so we got their leavings, and it suits us, being large. This," pointing to the building, "was the Dufta in old days. Of course, you don't know Hindustani? 'Dufta' means office. Your grandmother prefers it to the house."