Could he explain that the Koan-lo who had purchased Sie for his bride, and to whom she of right belonged, was his cousin and not himself? Could he deliver to the Koan-lo who had many friends and stores of precious valuables the only friend, the only treasure he had ever possessed? And was it likely that Sie would be happy eating the rice of Koan-lo the First when she loved him, Koan-lo the Second?
Sie's little fingers crept into his. She leaned against him. "I am tired. Shall we soon rest?" said she.
"Yes, very soon, my Sie," he murmured, putting his arm around her.
"I was too glad when my father told me that you had sent for me," she whispered.
"I said: 'How good of Koan-lo to remember me all these years.'"
"And did you not remember me, my jess'mine flower?"
"Why need you ask? You know the days and nights have been filled with you."
"Having remembered me, why should you have dreamt that I might have forgotten you?"
"There is a difference. You are a man; I am a woman."
