She could tell that he was furious in that instant. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. He rested on one elbow. Something in his tone pinched her heart. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. Run along now; but return in half an hour. . She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. She let out a delighted laugh. Had he not said so? Not that she wished him to marry her. . . ’ ‘Do you take me for a fool, Hilary?’ demanded his betrothed.
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