“Did you ever do that before?” Her demure anxiety and troubled looks brought another uncertain, low laugh from his lips.
“Tsi, did you hear him?” she demanded, turning to Tsang’s wife.
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Tsang, did you hear him?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Then she turned to him and said beseechingly.
“Do it again.”
In gayest hours, however, it seems that moments of sadness or foreboding must inevitably intrude, as sea-fogs slink in and envelop sunlit meadows. In such a manner one day there came into the song and laughter of the wife this uneasy unrest. She appeared trying to escape from something, but it overtook her and her song-laughter stopped.
She moved closely to the Breton.
“Why were you and Tsang gone so long to-day?”