About This Book
An astonishingly beautiful Eurasian girl with shoulder-length black hair cut in a page-boy bob had occupied her place. The Eurasian girl looked up, smiling. She had lovely eyes, dark, almond shaped, with very long black lashes that swept her cheeks.
"Miss Mildred Woodford?" she asked in polished English.
The Englishwoman conquered her surprise, but she was ruffled. Antagonism showed plainly upon her features. "I'm Woodford," she said flatly.
"I'm Mountain of Virtue." The Eurasian girl spoke with the rounded, pliable intonations of the Soochow accents. "I was sent to meet you. I am so glad you have come."
At the mere mention of the name Mountain of Virtue, the six Chinese officers crowded around the girl, beaming and mooning. Mountain of Virtue was well known in China, it seemed.
Mildred Woodford sank into an empty end seat and proceeded to stare with a frigid British eye. The Eurasian girl was slender. Her skin had a faint golden blush. Although she was dressed with Chinese exactness and taste, she was quite modern. Her duck's-egg green skirt, French-heeled shoes and bobbed hair gave ample proof.
What Mildred Woodford did not recognize was that Mountain of Virtue was what the Chinese poets call hsiaochieh—a woman born to attract men, then retire, bestowing favors artfully, rarely and elusively. In short, a dangerous woman!
