She had done her part by arriving. Perhaps done too much, arriving unannounced, but she had thought about that carefully and done the best she could by writing the letter, and had imagined this meeting hour after hour in the nauseating months at sea, during the storms and once, in the China seas off Singapore, during a mutiny of Chinese steerage passengers, pirates amongst them, that had been put down bloodily. Jamie was her lodestar and now the time of reckoning had arrived.

"He's a bad man, this Jamie McFay," her mother had told her when she announced her decision. "I've said it and said it, and he'll do you no good, lassie. His letters are anything but encouraging, just the reverse."

"I mean to go, Ma darling. Will Da' lend me the money?"' "Aye, if you ask him."

"I mean to go. I must. I'm twenty-eight.

I'm old. Past normal marriage age.

I've waited so long and would wait another three years if need be but... it's now or never.

I've decided. Do you understand, Ma?"' "Aye. I understand. But... well, at least you'll be with him, you'll be with your man, if you marry, not like me."

She had seen the tears and listened to advice never given before, secrets never whispered before, and then her mother said, "Bless you, lassie, go with God, lassie. Let's tell thy Da'."

He was a Major, Indian Army retired, twenty-five years service, eighteen of those with the newly formed Gurkha Regiment, home on leave only every two or three years, before being forced to retire from wounds a decade ago, loathing retirement.

"Aye lassie, go wi' my blessing on two conditions," he said. "If he spurns you, tell him I'll find him and kill him, second, if ever he rapes you, hurts you, cut off his balls--I'll lend you my kookrie, young Duncan won't need it for ten years yet."

"Yes, Da'." The kookrie, the Gurkha knife, was his most prized possession. She was the eldest of three sisters, with a brother of eight, and the first to leave home--children of Britain were children for the Empire.

Jamie put more coal on the fire and moved his chair closer before he sat down. He took her hand. "Maureen, three months ago I wrote to you."

"You wrote many a letter, not enough," she said lightly, to give herself more time to prepare.

"In all my letters for the last year I tried to point out as best I could that this is no place for a lady, it's not India where there's a regimental life an--"

"I've never been to India, as you know, Jamie, my Ma only went once and never again." She held his hand in both of hers. "Dinna fash yoursel', this place can be bonny, never fear. That's the job of a woman. I can make it bonny."

The tightness in his throat was choking him. No way to ease into this, his brain was shouting at him, do it or you'll never do it, do it now! Of course it's not fair but you've not been fair to her at all, not fair for years, you're rotten to have taken advantage of her all these years, my God you've been engaged three and knew her two before that and you're rotten... admit it and say it quickly.

Now!

The flood commenced: "Three months ago I wrote you that I felt, it must have arrived after you left, I thought it wise we should break off our engagement and you should forget me and that I was terribly sorry but it was the best for you and I won't go home and live there and work there, I won't leave Asia until I have to, if I get sick or... I won't leave, can't, I love Asia, love my job and there's no hope for a happy time for you, I'm not worth it and I admit I've taken advantage of you but we can't marry, not possible and now that I'm going out on my own..." He stopped for breath then added throatily, "I don't know what else to say, there's nothing more to say except again to apologize ... there it is."

He had taken his hand away. His stomach was churning. Out came his handkerchief to mop his brow.

"Sorry," he said lamely and got up and sat down, then toyed with the glass. "Sorry."

Her hands lay in her lap. Her eyes were concentrated and open and had never left his face. "Dinna be sorry," she said gently with the barest frown. "These things happen, laddie."

His mouth dropped open. "Then you agree?"

She laughed. "Of course, to part of what you said, no' to all, of course--you're a man and I'm a woman and we see things differently."

"Eh? How?"

"Well, first about jobs," she said. "A woman's job, her work, is to look after a man, to make a home, that's what I've been trained for, home and family are the most important things in the world." She saw Jamie about to interrupt so she added quickly, "My Da' thinks the Empire comes first but he's a man. Men have jobs to go to, to work at to bring home the porridge, a little meat, and aye some wusky. But there has to be a home to bring it to. Without a woman there's no home. It's very important for a man to have someone you can trust to share the burden while you work, or seek a job or start your own business. You can trust me. Of the two, trying to start your own business is best for you. Mr.Gornt wants to do the same."

"He does?"

"Aye, sometime in the future, he says. Now he's back here to take over Brock and Sons an--"

"He is?" Jamie blinked, diverted.

"Aye. He says he's taking the job of this man who tried to kill you, Mr. Greyfifth."

"Greyforth. Norbert Greyforth." Jamie's mind slammed back into gear: I must be losing my wits with you appearing like a ghost, I'd forgotten about Hoag and Malcolm and Hong Kong. "What happened in Hong Kong? About Malcolm Struan? Did Gornt say anything about Morgan Brock or Tyler Brock?"

"Patience, my bonny laddie, that comes later. Back to you and me since you brought the subject up as you did. We'll make a grand team, the best, I promise. We're engaged.

I promise I will make the best wife ever, I promise."

"But don't you see, lassie, it won't work," he said hating himself, but totally sure. "This place is rough, the life rough, there are few women here, you'll have no friends, nothing to do."

She laughed. "Jamie, Jamie, you hav'na heard a single word I've said. Now this is what w--"

A knock on the door stopped her. She called out, "Won't be a second!" She got up, continuing in the same gentle but firm voice, "That'll be Dr. Hoag, he was urgent to see you but I begged a couple of minutes first, I could'na' wait to see you. Now I'll leave you to him." She collected her hat and gloves and coat and scarf. "Dinna concern yourself about me, I'll be changed and ready in good time. I'll knock on your door. Dinner's at nine, dinna forget now."

"Eh?" he asked blankly.

"This Russian Count, Zerevev, some name like that. We've accepted for dinner, Mr.MacStruan told me all about it."

She swept out, thanked Hoag, and before Jamie could say anything, Hoag had closed the door and had rushed up to him and said breathlessly, the words tumbling out: "Hong Kong went like a dream, Jamie, Malcolm was buried with full honors, at sea like he and Angelique wanted!"

"He was what?"

Hoag chortled, "You could have knocked me down with a feather too, Tess arranged it off Shek-O, one of his favorite places in all the world, a few days before I arrived. Full honors, Jamie, all flags at half mast, ships dipping their flags, cannonade salutes, pipers, everything, the funeral of the tai-pan, though he never was. The papers covered everything, I've the cuttings, month's mourning for Hong Kong, Governor ordered a special service in our church on the knoll in Happy Valley of Culum fame, Gordon Chen threw the biggest, most explosive procession and wake in Chinatown's history-- except for the one he gave Dirk--of course starting the usual bloody fires on the slopes and they say a few thousand squatter shacks went up in smoke, not only that, when I saw Tess ... can I have a drink, I'm parched!"