Isnt Hsueeh Pan at home? Pao-yue having inquired: Hes like a horse without a halter, Mrs. Hsueeh remarked with a sigh; hes daily running here and there and everywhere, and nothing can induce him to stay at home one single day.
Is sister (Pao Chai) all right again? asked Pao-yue. Yes, replied Mrs. Hsueeh, shes well again. It was very kind of you two days ago to again think of her, and send round to inquire after her. Shes now in there, and you can go and see her. Its warmer there than it go and sit with her inside, and, as soon as Ive put everything away, Ill come and join you and have a chat.
Pao-yue, upon hearing this, jumped down with alacrity from the stove-couch, and walked up to the door of the inner room, where he saw hanging a portiere somewhat the worse for use, made of red silk. Pao-yue raised the portiere and making one step towards the interior, he found Pao Chai seated on the couch, busy over some needlework. On the top of her head was gathered, and made into a knot, her chevelure, black as lacquer, and glossy like pomade. She wore a honey-coloured wadded robe, a rose-brown short-sleeved jacket, lined with the fur of the squirrel of two colours: the gold and silver; and a jupe of leek-yellow silk. Her whole costume was neither too new, neither too old, and displayed no sign of extravagance.
Her lips, though not rouged, were naturally red; her eyebrows, though not pencilled, were yet blue black; her face resembled a silver basin, and her eyes, juicy plums. She was sparing in her words, chary in her talk, so much so that people said that she posed as a simpleton. She was quiet in the acquittal of her duties and scrupulous as to the proper season for everything. I practise simplicity, she would say of herself.
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