"Now, Mr. Wu"—Wu inclined his head slightly—"I'm not given to fine shades, equivocations, diplomatic finesse or any other Eastern method of wasting time."
"Quite so." Wu's tone was as polite as his words. But the amusement—imperceptible to Gregory—was a little less, the contempt a little more.
"And so," the Englishman continued, "If I'm blunt, it's because—I mean business."
"Business!" the mandarin exclaimed, "Ah! I wondered what had procured me the honor of this invitation—somewhat peremptorily conveyed, I fear I must remark. But doubtless that was done to save time too. However, if it is upon a matter of business"
"If you'll allow me to tell you first," Gregory broke in irritably (and he was irritated almost beyond endurance), "then you'll know better, won't you?"
"One moment," Wu interposed, slightly smilingly, "pardon me, but I do not like to remain seated whilst you are"
"Never mind me," the other said gruffly.
"Oh!" Wu returned simply, "I don't. But still"
"I think a man may please himself in his own office"—Gregory's voice was querulous with irritation.
"Quite so," the bland voice replied, "when he is alone."
"Then"—pugnaciously—"if you don't object, I think I'll remain as I am."
"Not at all," Wu said gravely, and rising; "in that case, we'll both stand."
For a moment the two men measured each other and themselves against each other—Wu very politely, but with a thin, cold smile just lurking at one corner of his mouth. Gregory fumbled for a cigarette, lit it clumsily, drew a whiff, then threw it down and stamped on it,
