A few moments later Sadako-san returned to the room. "So you have bathed too, Kent-san?"
"Why, yes; and why did you give me the slip like that?"
"Oh, I knew that it would be like that, with so many people here, bathing together. Certainly, I did not want to bathe with you."
"But when you bathed, did you not bathe with men?"
"Of course, but that—that's different."
"Because I'm a foreigner?" He was pleased enough that matters had turned out as they had. Somehow, he felt, with her he should have experienced a shyness and uneasiness, such as had not occurred with the girls who were unknown to him; that it would in some odd, intangible way have vitiated the state of purity of intimacy which he wanted to maintain with her. But the suggestion that she, Sadako-san, should feel the race difference, especially when these others had not thought thereof, irritated him. "Just because I'm a foreigner?" he repeated.
She came close to him, took his face between her slim, small hands, looked at him intently, reprovingly. "Hugh-san, you know that between you and me that doesn't matter. These other men, I didn't know them, but with you," she blushed furiously, "with you, I couldn't. Can't you see? It's because you're a man you are so stupid. If you were a woman, you'd understand."
In his turn he brought his hands to her cheeks, brought her face close to his, looked deeply into these great, darkly luminous eyes which had ever held such a fascination for him. He sensed a thrill pass through him, delicious, suffusing his entire being. No; he caught himself. This wouldn't do; he was slipping into dangerous waters. "Sadako-san," he said, holding control in his voice, "I understand, even if I am a man, and—you're a dear girl." But still they held each other. He felt a shivering, gasping tenseness, nervous, electrical, as if the next instant must bring some new, astounding, overwhelming development.
Patter of feet in the corridor. They sprang apart, faced each other embarrassed, in reaction of surprise at the nearness of love to which their feelings had so unexpectedly brought them. The maid brought supper. It was necessary to make an effort to appear natural, to get back to the commonplace. The presence of the servant, unsuspecting, business-like, arranging the table, helped them. They seated themselves on their cushions, self-consciousness fell away; soon they were chatting as if nothing had taken place.
Darkness had fallen. The lights were lit. The maid brought in huge bundles of futon and arranged beds, great heaps of wadded quilts on the floor, side by side. Evidently these two were man and wife, or sweethearts; it was all the same to her. Sadako-san went out on the narrow veranda, sat with her back turned to the room. The maid made the finishing touches. "Good-night, o yasumi nasai." She left the room, closed the shoji, the patter of her feet faded away down the hallway.