CHAPTER XXXVI But Sên King-lo had no intention of yielding. And for several days they pitted their wills against each other, while Mrs. Sên went quietly on with her packing. His Chinese will and her English will met and interlocked, and, because her will was a woman’s, Ruby won. Ruben went into the keeping of Lady Snow, “perfectly delighted to have another baby without any of the preliminary unpleasantness,” the overwatching care of his cousin Charles, with Dick and Blanche for special and voluble bodyguard; and the roses bloomed alone and unpruned on the tiny cottage, and Kwan Yin-ko lived alone in the Kensington house. “Would you not like to live in China?” Mrs. Sên had asked her husband one day before they left London. “Make it our home, I mean? I have been thinking about it a good deal these last few days. You have been like a boy since you’ve known you were going back to China.” “Transplant my English flowers to the wilds of China!” Sên laughed. “Ruben is only half-English,” she reminded him, “and I am your wife.” “Ruben looks rather more English than you do,” he retorted. “That’s no answer, Lo. Listen—” she put her hands on his shoulders and held them there. “I have been very happy here. It has been splendid. I’ve loved the fun of London and all the interest. But the one thing I _care_ for is to be with you and the boy. Truly, Lo. I meant every word I said to you the other morning: every bit of me did. I don’t care where we live. On my soul, I don’t. Let us live in China—most of your business is there. Take me to your own home, Lo, and make me a Chinese woman.” He took her face in his hands. It was the only answer he made her. “Wouldn’t you like to stay in China?” she persisted. “We could come here for nice long visits sometimes. Shall we?” Sên King-lo laughed oddly. “We’ll try a trial trip first,” was all he said. It was left at that. Baby Ruben was taken to Kent, the old room Ivy Gilbert’s mother had been born in made his day nursery, with Jack and Jill, Little Bo Peep and all her sheep, the Cow with the crumpled horn and the Old Woman who lived in a shoe and found it crowded, newly papered on the walls. Old Father Thames, in very bright blue, meandered tranquilly beside them, with golden stars for Oxford and Maple Durham, for Windsor and Eton, and one very big star with two extra points for London town. Sên King-lo and Ruby his wife crossed the world together. CHAPTER XXXVII Mrs. Sên clapped her hands and the “boy”—a wrinkled-faced Chinese of sixty—brought in the teapot and the crumpets. She had seen Lo’s chair as the bearers carried it up the path, and she was sure he’d want his tea as soon as he could get it, after being coolie-jolted all the way from the Bund to the top of the Peak, this broiling, brazen day. She knew she wanted hers.