ing Foo would have to pass the restaurant. A boy who knew the
merchant stood outside to watch.

* * * * *

Jane woke at nine. The brightness of the window shade told her that the
sun was clear. She sprang out of bed, a trill of happiness in her throat.
The shops! Oh, the beautiful, beautiful shops!

"China, China, China!" she sang.

She threw up the shade and squinted for a moment. The sun in the heavens
and the reflection on the Whangpoo were blinding. The sampans made her
think of ants, darting, scuttling, wheeling.

"Oh, the beautiful shops!"

Of all the things in the world--this side of the world--worth having,
nothing else seemed comparable to jade--a jade necklace. Not the stone
that looked like dull marble with a greenish pallor--no. She wanted the
deep apple-green jade, the royal, translucent stone. And she knew that she
had as much chance of possessing the real article as she had of taking her
pick of the scattered Romanoff jewels.

Jane held to the belief that when you wished for something you couldn't
have it was niggardly not to wish magnificently.

She dressed hurriedly, hastened through her breakfast of tea and toast and
jam, and was about to sally forth upon the delectable adventure, when
there came a gentle knock on the door. She opened it, rather expecting a
boy to announce that Captain Dennison was below. Outside stood a Chinaman
in a black skirt and a jacket of blue brocade. He was smiling and
kotowing.

"Would the lady like to see some things?"

"Come in," said Jane, readily.

Ling Foo deposited his pack on the floor and opened it. He had heard that
a single woman had come in the night before and, shrewd merchant that he
was, he had wasted no time.

"Furs!" cried Jane, reaching down for the Manchurian sable. She blew aside
the top fur and discovered the smoky down beneath. She rubbed her cheek
against it ecstatically. She wondered what devil's lure there was about
furs and precious stones that made women give up all the world for them.
Was that madness hidden away in her somewhere?

"How much?"

She knew beforehand that the answer would render the question utterly
futile.

"A hundred Mex," said Ling Foo. "Very cheap."

"A hundred Mex?" That would be nearly fifty dollars in American money.
With a sigh she dropped the fur. "Too much for me. How much is that
Chinese jacket?"

"Twenty Mex."

Jane carried it over to the window.

"I will