“A playfellow of my wife’s in Yian,” explained Cleves. “But if she were really Chinese she didn’t look like what are my own notions of a Chinese girl.”
“Yulun came from Black China,” said Mrs. Cleves. “I taught her English. I loved her dearly. I was her most intimate friend in Yian.”
There ensued a silence, broken presently by Benton; and:
“Where do I appear in this?” he asked stiffly.
Tressa’s smile was odd; she looked at Selden and said:
“When I was convalescent I was lonely.... I made the effort one evening. And I found Yulun. And again she was on a bridge. But she was dressed as I am. And the bridge was one of those great, horrible steel monsters that sprawl across the East River. And I was astonished, and I said, ‘Yulun, darling, are you really here in America and in New York, or has a demon tangled the threads of thought to mock my mind in illness?’
“Then Yulun looked very sorrowfully at me and wrote in Arabic characters, in the air, the name of our enemy who once came to the Lake of Ghosts for love of her—Yaddin-ed-Din, Tougtchi to Djamouk the Fox.... And who went his way again amid our scornful laughter.... He is a demon. And he was tangling my thread of thought!”
Tressa became exceedingly animated once more. She rose and came swiftly to where Benton was standing.
“And what do you think!” she said eagerly. “I said to her, ‘Yulun! Yulun! Will you make the effort and come to me if I make the effort? Will you come to me, beloved?’ And Yulun made ‘Yes,’ with her lips.”
After a silence: “But—where do I come in?” inquired Benton, stiffly fearful of such matters.