made the efforts and the pains of the everyday world she knew slightly absurd. That coloured mask seemed to hide the secret of an abundant, profound and significant experience: those long, delicate hands with their tapering fingers held the key of riddles undivined.
“What does she think about all day long?” asked Kitty.
“Nothing,” smiled Waddington.
“She’s wonderful. Tell her I’ve never seen such beautiful hands. I wonder what she sees in you.”
Waddington, smiling, translated the question.
“She says I’m good.”
“As if a woman ever loved a man for his virtue,” Kitty mocked.
The Manchu laughed but once. This was when Kitty, for something to say, expressed admiration of a jade bracelet she wore. She took it off and Kitty, trying to put it on, found, though her hands were small enough, that it would not pass over her knuckles. Then the Manchu burst into childlike laughter. She said something to Waddington and called for an amah. She gave her an instruction and the amah in a moment brought in a pair of very beautiful Manchu shoes.
“She wants to give you these if you can wear them,” said Waddington. “You’ll find they make quite good bedroom slippers.”
“They fit me perfectly,” said Kitty, not without satisfaction.
But she noticed a roguish smile on Waddington’s face.
