Brevard left with an easy familiarity, already planning a return, that
filled Edward Dunsack with resentful envy. The sun had disappeared behind
the house; long cool shadows swept down the garden; it was past time for
him to go. A reluctance to move from the magic of Taou Yuen possessed
him: he was unable to think how, when, he would next see her. He raged at
the prohibition against speaking Chinese; that ability should give him an
overwhelming advantage of Gerrit Ammidon. This was, of course, the reason
that he had been virtually commanded to limit himself to English. Many of
the forms of extreme Chinese courtesy were impossible to express in
another language.

Finally he rose; in departing he emphasized the importance of Jeremy
Ammidon--Taou Yuen should recognize and applaud that. He saw that she was
watching him obliquely, her lips in repose, her hands still among the
satin draperies. An American would have betrayed something of her
reaction to him, he could have discovered a trace, an indication, of her
thoughts; but the Manchu's face was as inscrutable as porcelain. William
Ammidon nodded, the old man responded to his leave-taking with a degree
of warmness, Gerrit at least smiled in a not unfriendly manner. Edward
Dunsack bowed to Taou Yuen, and she gravely inclined her head. He had a
last glimpse of her glowing in the green light of the inclosure of
rose-bushes and poplars, emerald sod and tangled lilac trees.

At the supper table his sister's appearance in somber untidy black
barege, Nettie's unrestrained gestures and speech, the coarse red cloth
and plain boiled fare, all added to a discontent that he could scarcely
restrain. With the utmost discrimination in delicate shades of beauty and
luxury he was yet condemned to spend his days in surroundings hardly
raised above poverty-stricken squalor. Incongruous as it was he could yet