“No—no,” she said hastily, “no, Mr. Wu, not that—not that at all. But I have come here with only one object——”
“With two, dear lady,” he interrupted her gently; “you forget Madame Sing.”
“Indeed, oh, no—I—I did not mean that, forgive me—but my boy—his safety—to see him—my mind is full of that——” The mandarin smiled indulgently and took up his fan again. “I should like to come again, if I may, some other time—when we are older friends”—she was pleading now—“I should like to come again and spend hours examining all your wonderful treasures—if you will let me. I hope you will. But now—now—I have only one thought in my mind. I can have but the one.” Her voice trembled pitifully.
Wu Li Chang smiled indulgently. “I have been waiting, Mrs. Gregory,” he said explanatorily, “for you to dismiss your servant.”
Ah Wong fixed her eyes on her mistress, entreaty and misery in their narrow depths.
Mrs. Gregory looked at Wu in startled astonishment. “Dismiss her—Ah Wong? Do you mean send her away?”
“Only out of the room,” the mandarin said carelessly. “She can wait in the courtyard.”
“But—but I couldn’t possibly do that,” the visitor stammered. She was frightened now, and knew that she was.
“Nevertheless,” Wu returned, in a tone he had not used before, “I fear I must insist.”
Their eyes met. The Chinese eyes of the man, inscrutable, the English eyes of the woman, appealing, terrorized. And Ah Wong half thrust a hand in her bosom, then dropped it back quickly to her side.