- nese, but quite the grande dame," the mother thought.
He uncovered and looked down at Nang. "Good-day, Miss Wu." She shook her hands at him in Chinese-salutation way, and straightening up looked at him with just the edge of a courteous smile—not an eyelash quivered. He turned and looked towards the other girls, but Low Soong had turned her back and was bending and gesticulating over a peony bed.
"By the way, Basil," his mother said as he passed her, but paused to give her one more smile, "the gardener was telling your father that he knew you." She wished him to go, and yet she stayed him.
Basil shot Nang a look—of consternation—taken aback and off his guard. Mrs. Gregory did not catch it, but both Hilda and Low Soong did. Nang Ping held herself impassive, but distress flickered for a moment in her eyes. Then he turned back to his mother, trying to seem unconcerned.
"Knew me? Why, I—he's never seen me here in his life."
"He didn't say he had, silly," Hilda Gregory said, strolling towards them, Low Soong tottering deftly beside her—Low's feet were bound—"he said he'd seen you in Hong Kong."
"Oh!" her brother laughed feebly, "in Hong Kong—that's quite possible. Well, now, I really am off. Good-by, Miss Wu." And Nang Ping bowed to him once more, in the prescribed ceremonial way, her face perfectly emotionless, dismissing him suavely, turning from him before he had quite gone.
"Will you not be seated?" she asked Mrs. Gregory, with a deferential gesture pointing to the old stone seat.
Hilda and Low Soong still strolled about among the treasures of the garden.
