"Suppose all this is true," said Nancy calmly, "what is the good of telling me? My father makes the decisions."
"We tell you because we can do nothing with your father. The t'ai-t'ai would send us away if we opened our mouths to protest. But you have your father's ear. The t'ai-t'ai cannot harm you. If you make your father understand what this engagement means, he would love you too much to bring such shame upon his daughter. Go and see him. According to your Western custom you have the right to speak about these things."
"I know nothing about Western customs," Nancy replied, "but I do know this: my father hasn't sent for me and he hasn't asked my advice. There is nothing I can say till he asks me."
As soon as she had made the two women realize that she was not going to lift the littlest finger against a fate which was not yet real to her mind, Nancy escaped to join Edward and Li-an in the garden. October sunshine glowed lazily through the trees, striking silky lights from the cobwebs. Nancy sat down in the little summer house which seemed to brood with her on the coming loneliness of winter; she kicked her feet through the crinkly leaves and looked at the bright borders of the chrysanthemums which tossed their curled petals like a rainbow of flame around her. She had wanted to stay like this forever—forever—yet now had come this new, unwanted intrusion to prove the rightness of her father's words.
"What is the matter, Nancy?" asked Edward, as he and Li-an came in and stood beside her. "Why don't you come and play?"
"I am going to be engaged."
"So am I," Li-an joined in proudly. "Just as soon as you're betrothed, mother's going to find a fiancé for me."
"Yes, we all have to be engaged," Edward agreed, "it's nothing to cry about. Perhaps they'll have a feast."
"Why do you say such stupid things, Edward? You never think about anything but your stomach. Do you think I have to be engaged just so you can stuff yourself? I hate you."
"Don't you really want to?" asked Edward with concern.