He might or might not leave Sên Ruben, but her cousin felt sure that he was not destined to leave Mrs. Sên. But again he kept his opinion to himself. He had “looked in” on Ivy’s matrimonial affairs for the last time. It caused friction, and it availed nothing.
“I wish Ivy would come to us then,” was what he did say.
“I wish she would,” Sên replied. “It would be jolly for her in Kent with you. And splendid for the boy. But I don’t believe she will. I think she’ll wish to stay here in our own home and in the cottage.”
“Shall you be gone long?”
“Hard to say. Five or six months, if not longer, I’m afraid. I must give things a thorough overhauling at Hongkong. We have a number of ramifications now, you know—in six of the provinces, and I ought to go myself to the end of them all. Then it will take some time to get home and come back from there. And my grandmother does not say for how long she will keep me with her—a day or two, perhaps, or it might be longer—weeks perhaps. I can’t tell.”
Sir Charles Snow wondered. It might be months perhaps! The venerable Madame Sên could tell, he knew; and he knew that she would.
“I suppose you’ll tell Ivy as soon as Emma and I have gone?”
“No—in the morning,” Sên replied. “She won’t like it. I’d hate her to. And I don’t like it myself.”
“But you’ll be glad to see China again—to be in China again?”
A light grew in Sên King-lo’s face.