great deal of Oriental deliberateness, and she was heroically determined to commit no social solecism, give this man no smallest affront. "Oh! very." If he wished his possessions admired by her, admired by her they should be, and to his vanity's content, cost her heart the delay what it might. "I had no idea" she nerved herself to begin, but stopped abruptly, embarrassed and at a loss.
"That a Chinese house could be so civilized a place?" Wu quizzed good-naturedly.
Really, she must do better than this. She would not give offense. "Not only civilized," she said, contriving a slight laugh—it was an awkward one—"but refined to the last degree."
There was very fine sarcasm and some contempt in the little bow he gave her—not a Chinese bow—but his voice was sincere and almost pleading. "My dear Mrs. Gregory," he began, "there is not so very much difference between the East and West, after all. Perhaps we in the East have a finer sense of art; certainly we care more for nature. But we all have the same desires—ambitions—the same passions, hate, revenge—and love!" There was honey in the slow, well-bred voice now—honey and something else. It jarred on the Englishwoman, and she turned with a slightly uncomfortable look. Instantly his tone changed to one entirely courteous still, but ordinary and commonplace. "Will you not be seated?" he said simply. "Or shall I describe some of my ornaments? You look about you as if you were good enough to be interested in my Chinese bric-à-brac."
"Yes—do—do," she stammered desperately; "that—that wonderful thing there? That gorgeous-looking duck!"
