She was a very good girl, master, and as pretty as a sprig of almond blossom.
Chinese women are not pretty to the foreigner's eyes, but little Daffodil was like something cast in porcelain, and she had the virtues of a thousand years." Tarling nodded.
"She was a good girl ?" he repeated, this time speaking in Chinese and using a phrase which had a more delicate shade of meaning.
"She lived good and she died good," said the Chinaman calmly.

"The speech of the Englishman offended her, and he called her many bad names because she would not come and sit on his knee; and if he put shame upon her by embracing her before the eyes of men, she was yet good, and she died very honourably." Another interval of silence.
"I see," said Tarling quietly.

"And when you said you would come with me to England, did you expect to meet--the bad Englishman ?" Ling Chu shook his head.
"I had put it from my mind," he said, "until I saw him that day in the big shop.

Then the evil spirit which I had thought was all burnt out inside me, blazed up again." He stopped.
"And you desired his death ?" said Tarling, and a nod was his answer.
"You shall tell me all, Ling Chu," said Tarling.
The man was now pacing the room with restless strides, his emotion betrayed only by the convulsive clutching and unclutching of his hands.
"The Little Daffodil was very dear to me," he said.

"Soon I think she would have married and have had children, and her name would have been blessed after the fashion of our people; for did not the Great Master say: 'What is more worshipful than the mother of children ?' And when she died, master, my heart was empty, for there was no other love in my life.
And then the Ho Sing murder was committed, and I went into the interior to search for Lu Fang, and that helped me to forget.