That she would yield, he had no doubt. And her own tortured soul knew that it wavered now, and it was sick.
Wu laid his hand on her arm. And she scarcely shrank back, but drew herself up, proud in her sorrow, and said slowly in his smiling face, “You—you devil!”
“Harsh words will not help him, Mrs. Gregory,” the mandarin said. “Only one thing can.” Face almost brushed face—they were so close.
She hid hers in her hands and sobbed in fear.
“I will leave you whilst you decide,” Wu said, and turned to the door that was, he had told her, her only way “out.”
In a sudden frenzy and palsied with nausea, she dashed at the other doors, sobbing, “Let me go!”—panting—“let me go, I tell you!”
Wu watched her a little before he said calmly, still smiling gravely, “This door is the only door which remains unlocked. If you should decide to enter it before I return, I should not be unresponsive to the honor you will do me. If not, I shall return soon myself—to assist you, if I may, to decide.”
“My husband knows that I have come here!” Mrs. Gregory cried defiantly. “I told him!” (Wu smiled.) “He will be here at any moment, and then——! Oh! I am not afraid of you!”
“Oh! I am glad of that!” Wu Li Chang said eagerly, “I desire only to inspire trust—and confidence—and the tenderest sympathy! But I know that your husband—that amiable, estimable Mr. Gregory—an odd, subtle creature, but so lovable—does not know you are here. You have not the remotest hope of seeing him—or you would not have told me! You would have temporized—delayed—said nothing.”
“He does know!” she stormed. “He may be here at any moment! And if he is not admitted he will batter your gates and doors down!”