"That you do not lig' liddle Japanese girl—do you lig' Americazan big proud girl?"
"No"—smiling. "Do you like the big proud American girl, Miss Numè?"
"Ess," she answered, half doubtingly. "Americazan lady is vaery pretty. Sometimes she has great big heart—then she change, and she is liddle, liddle heart—vaery mean woman."
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh! Numè watch everything," the girl answered, shrewdly.
Sinclair stayed by Numè's side almost the entire evening. She did not know how to dance; he did not care to; and as she told him quite candidly that she liked him to sit with her better than any one else in the room, he needed no further excuse. The girl's beauty and naivete captivated him, and in spite of her artlessness there were so many genuine touches of shrewdness and cleverness about her. Sinclair was converted into the belief that Japanese women were the most charming women he had met—at least, if the ladies were all as sweet and pretty as Numè.
During the evening Cleo Ballard paused in a dance, close by them. She had noticed the attention Sinclair had paid the girl from the beginning. He did not see her at first, but was looking with almost fascinated eyes into the strangely interesting face of the Japanese maiden. Sinclair had not once danced with Cleo through the entire evening, nor had he been by her side even. He had told her he did not like dancing, and on this plea had left her to the throngs of admirers who surrounded her, eager for a dance. There was a look of bitter pride on Cleo's face as she looked at him. In America Sinclair had always made it a point to attach himself almost scrupulously to her, and although she had always felt something lacking in his love for her, it pleased her that at least he had never given her cause to be jealous of any other women. Her voice sounded harsh even to her own ears.
"Perhaps, Arthur, you will introduce me—to——to your friend?" she said.
The same pique that always irritated him so was in her voice now. It was, he told himself, the reminder to him of his bondage; for long ere this the man had admitted to himself that he did not love her. He was too staunch by nature, however, knowing her love for him, to break with her. He rose stiffly from his seat beside Numè, his face rather flushed.
"Certainly," he said, coldly, and pronounced the two girls' names.