it lavishly about the room, until she had spilled the last drop.
Then she lit several handfuls of joss-sticks and pulled up the blinds. But she did not unlock the doors, or leave one unlocked when at last she left the room, to sit outside it till her lady called. She intended that no one but she should pass into that room until the Kowloon flowers were all dead, and she had won Mrs. Gregory's permission to burn them herself, basket and all.
The sweet pungence of the joss-sticks came to her from under the door. From under the room's other door no doubt it was filling her mistress's chamber with thick sweetness—but that was well, for the English lady loved the smell. Mr. Gregory did not especially. Quite possibly he might swear a little in his sleep. But he often swore in his sleep. Ah Wong had heard him.
She leaned back her head against the cool corridor wall, anxious and tired, but well content with her night's work.
And she had left her three jade bangles (and they were good) and her seven silver ones and her stick-pin of seed pearls and coral with Yat Jung How. And almost she had pawned her soul to him, and had quite pawned all she would earn for years.
Heathen Chinee!
