Sir Charles Snow went to the outer door with Sên.
“The celestial dragon, smoothly as a swan, carry your honorable person on high!” Snow said.
“May lotus flowers grow from the honorable bones of your distinguished ancestors!” Sên King-lo replied. “And may your honorable grave be soaked with the tears of an hundred sons.”
“Heaven forbid!” Snow exclaimed.
Then they both laughed and shook hands, and bade each other an English goodnight.
“Well—cheerio. So glad you could come.”
“Jolly glad I could. Thanks awfully. Cheerio.”
The East and the West get within hailing distance, at least now and then.
CHAPTER XII
It was not late the next morning when Mr. Sên’s orchids came—to Lady Snow, of course. He sent nothing to Miss Gilbert—but she could scarcely expect her confession-book back so soon. One wrote in confession-books at one’s leisure, and when in the mood. That was understood.