Numè's little hands were clasped in her lap. She did not speak, still.
Koto went on: "You see, she was not worthy, after all, that you sacrificed the pretty American gentleman for her, for Matsu says that all the Americans say at the hotel that she tell Orito sometime that she love him just for fun—and she not love—so Takashima Orito kill himself."
Still Numè did not reply. Her little head had fallen back weakly against the pillow. She was looking away out before her. After a time Koto put her arms about her, and they clung together.
"Koto," Numè said, vaguely, "will you leave me now? Or will you stay with me forever? Numè is so lonely now."
Koto evaded the question.
"I will stay with you, Numè-san, until you do not need me any longer."
"That will never be," the other said, tenderly.
That afternoon Koto fetched her samisen and played very softly to Numè. After a time she laid her instrument aside and went to the door, shading her face with her hand as she scanned the road. It was about the hour Sinclair had told her to expect him. She heard the beat of his runners before they were within a mile of the house.
"I am going to leave you all alone, for a little while," she told Numè.
She went down to meet Sinclair, and admitted him into the house. She pointed to the room where Numè was and then left him.