“... it is, of course, an imposition... it would be a service I could perhaps never repay...” This pause lasted so long that she heard herself murmuring, “No, really, not at all!”—and then felt the color creeping to her face... but if I might ask you to... but let me put it in this way—the young man is precisely the type I have come out here to study. You speak in the vernacular, and evidently understand him almost as a native might. It is unlikely I shall find in China many such natural interpreters as yourself. And of course... if it is thinkable that you would be so extremely kind as to... why, of course, I...”
“Heavens!” thought Betty, in a panic, “he's going to offer to pay me. I mustn't be rude.”
The man plodded on: “... why, of course, it would be a real pleasure to mention your assistance in the preface of my book.”
It was partly luck, luck and innate courtesy, that she didn't laugh aloud. She broke, as it was, into words, saving herself and the situation.
“You want me to act as interpreter? Of course Li knows a little English.”
“Would he—er—know enough English for serious conversation?”
“No,” mused Betty aloud, “I don't think he would.”
“Of course, Miss Doane, I quite realize that to take up your time in this way....”
There he stopped. He was frowning now, and apparently studying out the structural details of a huge junk that lay only a few hundred yards away, reflected minutely, exquisitely—curving hull and deck cargo, timbered stern, bat-wing sails—in the glass-like water.
“I'll be glad to do what I can,” said Betty, helplessly. Then, for the first time, she became aware that Mrs. Hasmer was stirring uncomfortably on her other hand, and added, quickly, as much out of nervousness as anything else—“We could arrange to have Li come up here in the morning.”