I did as he said. I am on my way to Peking to pursue my research. He is plunging off to scour the ports of Japan, all the way to Nagasaki, for the man and the woman who have assailed his honor and (what I am tempted to think even more to the point) outraged his pride as the head of his own house. Then he will go on, if necessary, to Shanghai,—that port of all the world,—to Hongkong, Manila, and Singapore, perhaps up the coast to Tientsin and Peking. And he has made me believe that he will do as he has sworn. It is very strange—very sad.
At the station I made my last weak protest.
“Crocker,” I blurted out, “for God's sake, try to win her back. Perhaps you drove her away. Perhaps you were harsher, less understanding, than you knew. Perhaps you should beg her forgiveness, not she yours.”
He shook his head. “That may be so,” he said. “All that you say may be so. But I could n't take her back. Don't you see?”
“No,” I replied stoutly, “I don't see.”
He raised both his hands in a despairing gesture.
“She is—-she—” His voice suddenly failed him. “She's a woman—and she's soiled!” His eyes filled; a tear rolled down his cheek. He made a queer, convulsive face; then threw up his hands and turned away.
That was all. I boarded my train.
The young German did not return the fifteen dollars. This China Coast is a hive of swindlers—so says Sir Robert. Henceforth I intend hardening my heart against every man. And against every woman, above all. For they, says Sir Robert, are the subtler and the worse.