I will be true, good wife to you forever, she said, and then swiftly corrected herself, as though frightened by her own words. No, no, I make ridigulous mistage—not forever—jus for liddle bit while—as you desire, augustness!
But I dont desire, he laughed nervously. I dont want to get married. I wont be over a few months at most in Japan.
Oh, jus for liddle bit while marry with me, she breathed, entreatingly—Pl-ease!
It hurt him strangely to have her plead so. She looked delicate and refined and gentle. He put her hands quickly from him. She held them out and put them back again into his. Her eyes clouded, and he thought she was going to cry.
He was seized with a desire to keep her from weeping, if he could, this little creature, who seemed made for anything but tears. He spoke from this impulse, without giving so much as a seconds thought to the seriousness of his words.
Dont cry. Ill marry you, of course, if you want me to.
He felt the hands in his own tremble.
Thangs, excellency, she said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, but it was a voice which had in it no note of joy.
There was pleasure, however, in the eyes of the nakoda. He had done a good piece of business, a most excellent piece of business, for the American gentleman was reputed to be able to buy hundreds and hundreds of rice-fields if he so cared to do. The nakoda came forward with a benignant smile to arrange the terms.