(Enter Yu Tai Shun, left. He is dressed in gray flannels, of American pattern.)
Shun (stopping before Wong Fe)
I left a witch-cloud on the hills, and it has dropped down before me.
(She courtesies to the floor. He snatches her up.)
Shun
No! I want my Western bride to-night.
Wong Fe
But this is a Chinese orchard, and it is springtime. Let me worship a little.
Shun
Never, my mountain bird!