Jade-stone velly nice! Plitty young missy wanchee jade-stone."

"Did she say she wanted it?" demanded Percival, with sudden interest.

The boy grinned. "Oh, yes. Wanchee heap! No have got fifty dollar'.
Master have got. Wanchee buy?"

Percival tossed him the money and lay the pendant on the table. Then he
resumed his pacing and his disturbed meditations. If he could only keep
himself firmly in hand during those next four days, all would be well.
Once safely anchored in the harbor of his sister's eminently proper
English circle, the song of the siren would doubtless fade away, and he
would thank Heaven fervently for his miraculous escape. Meanwhile he
listened with increasing impatience for the first flutter of the siren's
wings,

"Wanchee Manchu coatt?" whispered an insidious voice at his elbow, and,
looking down, he saw the enterprising lad with a pile of gorgeous silks
over his arm and cupidity writ large in his narrow eyes.

"No, no; go away!" commanded Percival.

"Velly fine dragon coat. Him all same b'long mandarin. How much?"

Percival turned away, but at every step was presented with another
garment for inspection. Despite himself, his artistic eye was caught and
held by the beauty of the fabrics.

"How much?" he asked, picking up a marvelous affair of silver and gray,
lined with the faintest of shell pinks. It was the exact tone and sheen
to set Bobby's beauty off to the greatest advantage. The argument over
the price was short and fierce, and Percival laid the coat beside the
pendant on the table.

He promised himself to offset the effect of these gifts by a more
detached and impersonal manner than he had shown Bobby during the day.
So far, he congratulated himself, he had given her no occasion for false
hopes. On the contrary, he had gone out of his way on several occasions
to express his bitter disapproval of international marriages. When the
hour came for them to part, his heart might be mortally wounded, but his
conscience, save for a few scratches, would be uninjured.

A quick step in the corridor made him look up. Standing in the doorway
was a vision of girlish beauty that had the acrobatic effect of sending
his blood into his head and his heart into his eyes. She wore the
diaphanous gown of white that he liked best, her hair was coiled at the
exact angle he had prescribed, and at her belt were the orchids he had
sent up half an hour before. No rhinestones in her hair, no gold beads
on her slip