"Yes, I do, sweetheart. You must tell them—they will forgive in time—promise me, Numè—sweetheart."
He drew her towards him, but the girl still held back.
"Wait," she cried, almost in terror. "We mus' be sure firs' thad my father, thad Orito will not killing me."
"Kill you!" the man scoffed at the idea.
"Bud Numè is afraid," she persisted, and pulled her little hands desperately from his. She ran a little way from him, a sudden feeling of shyness and terror possessing her.
"Koto!" she called.
At the bend of the road where they were wont to part Sinclair helped her into the waiting jinrikisha. Her little hand rested against his sleeve for a moment. She was not afraid now—now that Koto was with her, and the runners were watching them. She was not afraid to let him read her little heart now. Such a look of tenderness and love and passion was in her small flower face as filled Sinclair with a wild elation.
"My little passion flower," he whispered, and bending kissed her little hand fervently.