Then her husband quite seriously reproved her, and reminded her forcibly that she was anything but an insignificant geisha girl. She was, in fact, a very important person—his wife.

Ah, yes, she admitted that she had indeed grown in caste since her marriage with him; nevertheless, they had lived so honorably secluded together that she had forgotten all the polite mannerisms of society, which she had never been acquainted with at all, being only a crude girl of humble parentage. She would surely disgrace not only both of them by her behavior, but doubtless the whole assemblage. She would not know how to act, how to look, and when to speak.

Then Jack insisted, with affected selfishness, that she should look at and speak to no one but himself. He would commit hari-kari, or joshi, or any old kind of Japanese suicide, otherwise. And as for her manners, they were lovely, perfect, just right.

“Ah, bud you—” she deprecated. “You don’ understan’, you big barbarian. Those same honorable monsters, Japanese princes, whad, before all the gods, they goin’ to thing of me?”

“That you are absolutely adorable. How could they help thinking so, unless they are stone blind. Besides, this isn’t a Japanese affair at all. It’s at a European hotel, and there’ll be all sorts and conditions of people there. I was lucky to get the invitations. They aren’t for every one, you know. This is a big thing.”

“You so big,” she said, proudly.

“Well, no. It had really nothing to do with my size. You see, I have a half-Jap friend in America, and of course it’s through him I’m favored.”

“Ah, thad half-Jap, he was very high-up man ad Japan, perhaps?”

“Well, he was connected with some of the big families, though he was quite poor.”

“Thad,” said Yuki, with sudden vehemence, “is no madder ad Japan. Money! Who has thad money? Nod the ole families, the flower of the country; jus’ the shop-keepers and the politicians.”