"
"Yes," Dong-Yung answered, with a little smile. "The customs of the
foreign-born are pleasant to our eyes."
"I am glad you like them," said the foreign-born woman. "I couldn't bear
not to go everywhere with my husband."
Dong-Yung liked her suddenly on account of the look that sprang up a
moment in her eyes and vanished again. She looked across at the priest,
her husband, a man in black, with thin lips and seeing eyes. The eyes of
the foreign woman, looking at the priest, her husband, showed how much
she loved him. "She loves him even as a small wife loves," Dong-Yung
thought to herself. Dong-Yung watched the two men, the one in imperial
yellow, the one in black, sitting beside each other and talking.
Dong-Yung knew they were talking of the search. The foreign-born woman
was speaking to her again.
"The doctor told me I would die if I came to China, but John felt he had
a call. I would not stand in his way."
The woman's face was illumined.
"And now you are very happy?" Dong-Yung announced.
"And now I am very happy; just as you will be very happy."
"I am always happy since my lord took me for his small wife." Dong-Yung
matched her happiness with the happiness of the foreign-born woman,
proudly, with assurance. In her heart she knew no woman, born to eat
bitterness, had ever been so happy as she in all the worlds beneath the
heavens. She looked around her, beyond the failure of the foreign
woman's garden, at the piled, peaked roofs of China looking over the
wall.
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