“I—did not—know it—was—here.” The little lady spoke very slowly.
“Then you have seen it!” In her eagerness Jeanne gripped the arms of her chair hard. “Tell me! What is it? How is it done? Could one borrow it?”
“Borrow it? My child, you do not know what you are asking!
“But you—” She lowered her voice to a shrill whisper. “How can you have seen it?”
Quite excitedly and with many a gesture, the little French girl told of her visit to the Chinese temple on that rainy afternoon.
“Oh, my child!” The little lady was all but in tears as she finished, tears of excitement and joy. “My dear child! You cannot know what you have done, nor how fortunate you are that you escaped unharmed.”
“But this is America, not China!” Jeanne’s tone showed her amazement.
“True, my child. But every great American city is many cities in one. On the streets you are safe. When you pry into the secrets of other people, that is quite another matter.”
“Secrets!”
“The Chinese people seem to be simple, kindly, harmless folks. So they are, on the street. But in their private dealings they are the most secretive people in the world.