“He said other things—I am puzzled. It is not a simple matter to make a decision. Some day I must give you a translation of everything. I know that; it troubles me—what is best to do. We Chinese have a word for indecision. Literally it means a straw moving in cross currents—first this way, then that way. My mind is like that. I owe Shi Soh—Trasmere—much—how can I pay him? He was a hard man but our words, one to the other, have been more binding than sealed papers and once I said that I would serve his blood. That is my difficulty, a promise which is now....”
Here, such was his emotion, that his English failed him. She saw the dull red of his face, the veins of his temples standing out like knotted cords and was sorry for him.
“I will be patient, Yeh Ling,” she said soothingly. “I know you are my friend.”
She held out her hand, remembered and drawing it back quickly took her own and shook it with a delighted gurgle of laughter.
Yeh Ling smiled too, as he followed her example.
“A barbarous custom,” he said drily, “but from a hygienic point of view a very wise one. You are forgiving me, Miss Ardfern?”
“Of course,” she nodded, “and now I really am feeling hungry—will you send me some food?”
He was out of the room before her request was completed.
It was like Yeh Ling that he did not come to the door when she went out. She hoped he would, but Yeh Ling could not have been there, for he was waiting outside and when she turned the corner, he was very near to her though she could not guess this.