“You—Yoshida, you would not cast me off? You swore you adored me. It is not my fault I am Engleesh. I am Japanese here.”
She placed her hands over her heart.
“If you will marry me,” she said, “I will be Japanese altogether.”
“My son,” said Yamashiro the elder, “will obey his father’s august will in all things.”
The girl spoke slowly, scornfully.
“I make a fool of myself to come to you with such a request. I would not marry you, Yoshida—no, not though the white people killed me.”
Drawing the doors sharply behind her, Hyacinth left the house unattended to the gate.
“Ah, what an escape we have had!” burst from Madame Yamashiro.
Her husband scowled.
Yoshida slowly moved to the shoji and stared out dimly at the little figure hurrying down the path.