"Yes, but your father won't like you taking presents from that infernal Japanese, Mara," said Theodore, crossly. His nerves were so upset that he felt it would relieve him to vent his temper on someone.
Mara sprang to her feet like a small fury, and her face grew darkly red, as her pale eyes blazed with anger. "You have no right to speak in that way of Count Akira. I love him; I don't care who hears me. I love him!" She sat down again suddenly. "I wish he would take me to Japan," she ended viciously.
"Mara!" Theodore was horrified; "a Japanese?"
"Well. I was one ages ago," she retorted.
"I don't believe it."
"Yes, you do. You know too much about these occult things to disbelieve."
Theodore, as a matter of fact, did believe, but he did not intend to confess as much. "You can't be sure," he snapped, furiously.
"I can be sure, and I am sure," said Mara, mutinously; "since I danced the Round of the Divineress and heard the music, it all has come back to me. I remember the Temple of Kitzuki quite well, and the ceremonies. Oh, I wish I could go back there. It is my native land."
Theodore looked at her stealthily, and his eyes glittered as an idea struck him hard. "Would you go if Akira took you?"
"Yes." Mara wet her lips and stared at him. "Perhaps he will take me," she said softly; "he is coming back in his yacht, you know."