"It is finished," was the calm reply.
Immelan stroked his short moustache thoughtfully.
"Is it wise?" he ventured. "She has been faithful and assiduous. She knows many things."
Prince Shan's eyes were filled with mild wonder.
"She has had some years of my occasional companionship," he said. "It is surely as much as she could hope for or expect. We are not like you Westerners, Immelan," he went on. "Our women are the creatures of our will. We call them, or we send them away. They know that, and they are prepared."
"It seems a little brutal," Immelan muttered.
"You prefer your method?" his companion asked. "Yet you practise deceit. Your fancy wanders, and you lie about it. You lose your dignity, my friend. No woman is worth a man's lie."
Immelan was leaning back in his chair, gazing steadfastly across the crowded theatre.
"Your principles," he said, "are suited to your own womenkind. La Belle Nita has become westernised. Are you sure that she accepts the situation as she would if she dwelt with you in Pekin?"
"I am her master," Prince Shan declared calmly. "I have made no promises that I have not fulfilled."