“You belong to his home. It is some fatal and horrible miscarriage of fate that has cast your destiny among this alien people.”
“Not alien!” she said, fiercely. “My people—my—” She broke off, and almost staggered towards Aoi, against whom she leaned, as if for support.
“Go away, go!” she cried to them. “Excuse our rudeness, but—but, alas, we are in sorrow.”
She sank to the ground, burying her face and sobbing piteously.
Aoi stepped falteringly towards them.
“Good-bye, excellencies. Pray you come to-morrow instead. We will be in good health then. Good-bye.”
Silently the two men left the house. They were quite far down the street before either spoke again. Then:
“Good Heavens! It is grotesque, impossible, horrible,” said the younger man.
“She is more Japanese than anything else.”
“But her face—it—by George! I haven’t words to express myself. I thought to render a splendid service to the little girl, yet now—well—I feel like a—criminal.”