“You came in.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You came in the door while Yulun and I were talking.”
“When?”
“When you came to see me after I was better, and you and Mr. Selden were going North with Mr. Recklow. Don’t you remember; I was lying in the hammock in the moonlight, and Victor told you I was asleep?”
“Yes, of course——”
“I was not asleep. I had made the effort and I was with Yulun.... I did not know you were standing beside my hammock in the moonlight until Yulun told me.... And that is what I am to tell you; Yulun saw you.... And Yulun has written it in Chinese, in Eighur characters and in Arabic,—tracing them with her forefinger in the air—that Yulun, loveliest in Yian, flame-slender and very white, has seen her heart, like a pink pearl afire, burning between your august hands.”
“My hands!” exclaimed Benton, very red.
There fell an odd silence. Nobody laughed.
Tressa came nearer to Benton, wistful, uncertain, shy.