"Leaving! My dear child, it isn't possible, is it?" She did not like to ask if the General was sending her away. Mah-li nodded. Megan sat considering her. She felt only indulgence for Mah-li, and her imagination returned to the glimpse of two delicate painted faces seen for a moment in one shaft of sunlight. She could not blame her for a lapse from so problematic a duty. A feeling that this kind of love, anti-social as it is, has in it something too sacred to be bound by law is strong in the West, where the rights of the individual are of such transcendent importance and where society seems to be created for the good of man, rather than man for the good of society. There was nothing in Megan's tradition nor in her experience to make her capable of censoring Mah-li, the rebel, too severely. "Well," she said, "it may be the best thing in the end. You could not have been happy here. I have wanted to tell you from the first that if I could help you in any way I would. And now I am sure I can. You must come to me when I get back to Shanghai. We can plan then what is best for you and what will make you happy." Mah-li looked up and a little puzzled frown gathered between her perfect eyebrows. "Yes, I told you I would be married in Shanghai and perhaps now I shall have a home there. But wherever I am, it will be the same. I will look out for you. You mustn't worry about that at all. You can stay with me until you choose the sort of life you want to lead. There are so many occupations for women these days, even in China. They don't have to be the slaves of fantastic customs any longer, and you mustn't feel that this one experience has ended things for you. Not at all. You will start out all fresh in a new world and with a real friend to help you. For I want you to consider me your friend, Mah-li. Will you?" The inadequacy of words became almost terrifying to Megan. With all the affection and help she wished to pour out on Mah-li she could only flounder about in phrases that seemed to bend under her. But she felt Mah-li must be aware of the warmth of her intention. "You are very kind," said Mah-li. "I suppose," said Megan, "that you are an expert with your needle and can make all those fascinating embroideries such as I saw in Shanghai. And then you type, you tell me. That might be something you would like to follow up. And speaking English so well, I have an idea we could find you some very interesting secretarial work." Mah-li looked into the corner again and a smile curled her lips, a timid smile, but one holding the ghost of mockery. Megan stopped, for she could not continue to ignore the fact that Mah-li, as she stood, was a piece of pure decoration, made only to give pleasure. It was with relief that she thought again of Captain Li. "Is Captain Li a Christian?" she asked, not that it seemed likely but as a means of introducing him into the field. "Oh, no," said Mah-li, and she added, "He is a scholar."