Page:Frank Owen - The Wind That Tramps the World (1929).djvu/42

 color that I crave," she murmured, "to him will I surrender and to none other. Marriage at best is a subjection of womanhood and I can only submit to it if my reward does justify. Love is a poem but poems can be repeated to many people. My love is a color, pale pink like the blush of the morning, pink like the cheek of a happy woman, pink like the sky when day is dying. Your reward will be great if you win me; mine must be great by proportion."

Tsang Kee Foo returned to his house. He locked himself in his workroom for days seeking the secret of that wondrous color. His enthusiasm was great but no greater than that of Lu Chau even though Lu Chau was not so adept at concentration. While pining for the wondrous Mei-Mei he was not blind to the charms of other women. He studied profoundly but his amours were in like proportion.

Frequently he stopped at the home of Tsang Kee Foo. He was extremely polite, but the essence of politeness he affected did not dull the edge of his cynicism. He angered Tsang Kee Foo to an acute degree by assuming that in the end he himself would win the prize. All women were as flowers that bent to every breeze and the love of Lu Chau was as subtle as wind sighing through willows.

He walked about the rooms of Tsang Kee Foo, fingering his porcelains, eulogizing their perfection and beauty. Occasionally he drew attention to a slight defect in one. At other times he was loud in his