CHAPTER XXXII. THE PHILOSOPHY OF LOVE.
After dinner Numè resumed her seat by Mrs. Davis, while her husband took Koto through the house, glad of an opportunity to air his limited knowledge of Japanese; for Numè seldom permitted them to address her save in English, pretending to make great fun of their Japanese in order to make them speak English to her. They, on the other hand, always praised her English extravagantly.
"I want you to promise me, Numè, that you will never tell any man you care for him again, unless it is Orito."
"Why shall I promise?" the girl asked.
"Because it is not the right thing to say to any one."
"But if I luf——"
"Nonsense; you are not going to love except as all good Japanese girls do—after your marriage."
"But you say one time thad is shame for me thad I only luf after I marry."
"Well, I have been thinking it over," the other answered, a trifle rattled—"and—and really, you are all so happy with things that way I wouldn't advise your changing the custom."
"Bud Japanese girl luf a liddle before they marry. After marriage big bit. Koto say geisha girl luf big bit before they marry. Koto luf vaery much Japanese boy in Tokyo——"
"That is good, and are they to be married?"
"Ah, no; because he worg vaery hard to mag' money, but Koto say mag' vaery liddle money, so she come worg' for me, and save—afterward they marry vaery habby."
Numè looked at the American lady with eyes full of wistful wondering: "I thing' I lig' vaery much thad I luf and be habby too. Numè nod know thad she luf Orito vaery much—Ess, she luf him vaery much, bud—sometimes I thing' I nod luf him too much; sometimes I thing' mebbe Orito nod luf me too much."
"Of course, you do love him, goosie. Now, don't begin thinking you don't, because one often convinces oneself of things that are not actually so."
"Bud I do nod thing' much of Orito," the girl contradicted; and added, shyly: "I thing', instead, of Mr. Sinka—but I not lig'—No! Numè nod lig' Mr. Sinka;" she shook her head violently.
Mrs. Davis called all the argument she could to her aid.
"You ought not to think of him, Numè; that is wicked, because he belongs to some one else."
The girl's face had lost its wistfulness. Now it was arch and complacent.
"Perhaps Numè is vaery wigged," she smiled. "Koto say all girls thad are habby are wigged."
"Koto is a bad girl if she told you that. Don't let her teach you about the geisha girls, dear—Er—every one knows they are not a good class, at all."
Numè tossed her head provokingly. "All the same, Numè still thing' of Mr. Sinka."
Her persistence astounded Mrs. Davis. She felt almost like shaking the girl; and yet there was something so sweet and innocent in her openly acknowledging that she thought of Sinclair.
She had not been out much, nor had she seen many people since the night of the party. Therefore, it was quite natural that, as Sinclair had made such an impression on her that night, she should think about him a great deal. Moreover, Koto, with a geisha girl's usual flippancy and love of anything savoring of romance, had perhaps fostered this feeling. The girls had discussed him.
Ever since he had told his father of his love for the American girl, Orito had been very kind to her, though sometimes Numè fancied he wished to tell her something. Her interest in Sinclair had not spoiled her loyalty to Orito, which she had felt and cultivated all these years. Koto had encouraged her in the idea of flirting with the American. That was all. She never for an instant thought of breaking off her betrothal with Orito. She had grown used to that, and, unlike Orito, she had not been in America, so that she still was Japanese enough to be obedient. Besides, she really did love Orito in a way that she herself did not comprehend. Because, although it pleased her very much to be with him, to chat and tell him all the news of the neighborhood in which they lived, ask his advice and opinion on different subjects, yet her mind kept constantly wandering from him, and she could call up no genuine warmth or enthusiasm in her affection for him. The truth was, her love for him was merely that of a young sister for a very dear brother, one from whom she had been parted for a long time.