enraged at the silent stupidity of the three men and flashed a silent
command at her husband.

"This is a decided surprise," the latter at last addressed his brother;
"nor can I pretend that it is pleasant." Jeremy Ammidon's gaze wandered
blankly from Gerrit to the woman, then back to his son.

Never before had Rhoda seen such lovely clothes: A long gown with wide
sleeves of blue-black satin, embroidered in peach-colored flower petals
and innumerable minute sapphire and orange butterflies, a short
sleeveless jacket of sage green caught with looped red jade buttons and
threaded with silver and indigo high-soled slippers crusted and tasseled
with pearls. Her hair rose from the back in a smooth burnished loop.
There were long pins of pink jade carved into blossoms, a quivering
decoration of paper-thin gold leaves with moonstones in glistening
drops, and a band of coral lotus buds. Pierced stone bracelets hung
about her delicate wrists, fretted crystal balls swung from the lobes of
her ears; and clasped on the ends of several fingers were long pointed
filagrees of ivory.

"Taou Yuen," Gerrit repeated shortly, with his challenging bright gaze.
"That means Peach Garden. My wife is a Manchu," he asserted in a more
biting tone; "a Manchu and the daughter of a noble. Thank you, Rhoda,
particularly. But I have always counted on you. Will you go up with her?
That is if--if my father has a room, a place, for us."

"This will always be your home, Gerrit," Jeremy said slowly, with the
long breath of a diver in deep waters.