Wu waiting patiently, and watching with an almost flattering evidence of interest.
"The fact is, Mr. Gregory," Wu continued, "I have my own little prejudices; and if you remain standing whilst I am seated, it will seem to me—possibly very unreasonably—that you are standing, not out of courtesy to me, but to exhibit to me a minatory and even overbearing presence."
For a moment Gregory fought with himself. He was hotly angry, and more chagrined than angry. And he knew now that he was completely at sea. But he made a brave effort to control himself. He had promised Holman and his wife—tacitly—in response to Holman's earnest word and the pleading in her eyes as she had turned to go. And he wanted to find or trace his son.
"Pray be seated, Mr. Wu," he said, after an instant, and indicated with a bow a chair. But Wu caught the irony, of course, in the elaborate bow and the mock-courtesy of the request. But he bowed quite gravely in return, and again said, "Thank you," as he sat down.
Gregory sat also; he did not dare to have his own way in this small thing, and the little defeat irked him and contributed to his thickening uneasiness. However, if he had to sit, whether he chose or not, he could sit as he liked, in his own chair, in his own office, he'd be damned if he couldn't—and he did. He put his elbows decidedly on the desk, rested his chin firmly on his knuckles, and faced Wu with a fixed look and fighting eyes, his face thrust forward aggressively.
Wu regarded the Englishman placidly.
"Now, Mr. Wu, what the hell are you up to?" Gregory spoke quietly but decisively, and he leaned still farther across the table.
