head. She was a true daughter of China. If she ran away she would lose 'face' among all the people who knew her. Away from China she could not be happy. It was impossible for her to go. But though Hung Long Tom could not have her she would never be possessed by any other man. For one long moment she lay passively in his arms, then suddenly she drew a dagger from her garments and plunged it into her breast. She was smiling as she fell, smiling as her body grew cold, smiling as Hung Long Tom pressed his lips to hers. With her last breath she murmured of her love but so low was her voice he could scarcely hear the words.
Hung Long Tom knelt and gazed down upon her as though life had stopped for him. Like a cold grim statue he gazed upon her. But he made no outcry of his anguish. Her love, her belief in him would always be a beautiful memory. Better far was she to accept death than existence with the shrunken Mandarin in his vast palace of concubines and cold
wealth. Gently Hung Long Tom lifted, her
