As the irate Yoshida vanished through the doors, Hyacinth clapped her hands with a childish gesture of delight. She looked at Koma, now regarding her gravely, then, with a dimpling smile, she sat down on the mats among the despised gifts. These she tossed about gayly.
“He has gone away,” she said, “mad as three devils of Osaka, but what matter? He has left the gifts! Such a silly lover, such a foolish one!”
She began to collect the gifts, folding the obi and the rich kimono.
“You are not going to keep them?” said Koma, standing over her and looking down at her gravely.
“Not going to keep them? Why, the lover refused to accept their return.”
“Yes, but you don’t want them.”
“But I do,” she protested, patting the folded obi lovingly.
“Why, you told him you did not.”
“Oh,” she said, airily. “That’s just foolish pride. I was just talking—through my head.”
She laughed mischievously.