“No; it’s a Shinto monastery. Few people know it, and it’s out of the run of the general sight-seeing bounders.”
“And without—but see here, Jane.”
“Yes?”
“What’s your husband?”
“George?”
“Yes, I suppose his name is George. What is he?”
“He’s in the wool trade—he’s the richest man in the wool trade, they say. He thinks and talks of nothing else but wool. He got off the subject to-day with you for awhile; wasn’t he brilliant? But we get on all right together; he has his set, and I have mine.”
“What is his set?”
“The very best—I mean the very worst; the poor old Smart Set that every one is always beating as if it were a donkey—which it is,” said Jane, taking her seat on the plinth supporting the prancing figure of Ama-ino, fronted across the walk by the equally fantastic figure of Koma-ino, a veritable Lion and Unicorn. “Sit down beside me, Dick, and tell me—”