"Please, without embarrassment, speak quickly what you have to say."
Mr. Ito chose a cigarette, and slowly pinched together the cardboard holder, which formed its lower half.
"Indeed, sensei, it is a difficult matter," he began. "It is a matter which should be handled by an intermediary. If I speak face to face like a foreigner the master will excuse my rudeness."
"Please, speak clearly."
"I owe my advancement in life entirely to the master. I was the son of poor parents. I was an emigrant and a vagabond over three thousand worlds. The master gave me a home and lucrative employment. I have served the master for many years; with my poor effort the fortunes of the family have perhaps increased. I have become as it were a son to the Fujinami."
He paused at the word "son." His employer had caught his meaning, and was frowning more than ever. At last he answered:
"To expect too much is a dangerous thing. To choose a yoshi (adopted son) is a difficult question. I myself cannot decide such grave matters. There must be consultation with the rest of the Fujinami family. You yourself have suggested that Governor Sugiwara might perhaps be a suitable person."
"At that time the talk was of Sada San; this time the talk is of Asa
San."
A flash of inspiration struck Mr. Fujinami Gentaro, and a gush of relief. By giving her to Ito, he might be able to side-track Asako, and leave the highway to inheritance free for his own daughter. But Ito had grown too powerful to be altogether trusted.
"It must be clearly understood," said the master, "that it is the husband of our Sada who will be the Fujinami yoshi."