“One moment!” protested Mr. Brachey. “Will you please ask him, Miss Duane, whether he believes that the general use of opium has appreciably lowered the vitality of the Chinese people? That is, to put it conversely, whether the curtailment of production is going to leave a people too weakened to act strongly in a military or even political way? Surveying the empire as a whole, of course.”
Betty's thoughts, which had wandered hopelessly afield, came struggling back.
“I—I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm afraid I didn't quite hear.”
“I must ask you to come with me, Betty,” said Mrs. Hasmer.
At this, looking heavily disappointed, Mr. Brachey rose; ran a long bony hand through his thick hair.
“We could take it up in the morning,” he said, turning from the bland young Chinaman to the plainly confused girl. “That is, if Miss Doane wouldn't mind staying on the ship. I presume she has seen Nagasaki.”
His perturbed eyes moved at last to the little elderly lady who had seemed so colorless and mild; met hers, which were, of a sudden, snapping coals.
“You will not take it up again, sir!” cried Mrs. Hasmer; and left with the girl.
The Chinaman smiled, clasped his hands, bowed with impenetrable courtesy, and withdrew' to his quarters.
Mr. Brachey, alone, looked over his notes with a frown; shook his head; went down to dress for dinner.