"Yes," returned Fin Fan, snapping off a thread. "Without my honorable brother's consent."
"And your mother gone but six moons!"
O'Yam's face wore a shocked expression.
"Does the fallen leaf grieve because the green one remains on the tree?" queried Fin Fan.
"You must love Hom Hing well," murmured O'Yam—"more than Fou Wang loves me."
"Nay," returned her companion, "Fou Wang's love for you is as big as mine for Hom Hing. It is my brother's conscience alone that stands between him and you. You know that."
"He loves not me," sighed O'Yam.
"If he does not love you," returned Fin Fan, "why, when we heard that you were unwell, did he sleeplessly pace his room night after night until the news came that you were restored to health? Why does he treasure a broken fan you have cast aside?"
"Ah, well!" smiled O'Yam.
Fin Fan laughed softly.
"Fou Wang is not as other men," said she. "His conscience is an inheritance from his great-great-grandfather." Her face became pensive as she added: "It is sad to go across the sea without an elder brother's blessing."
