y; still worse, she is a half-caste, the daughter of
an adventurer journalist and a tea-house woman. What can one expect?
It is bad blood."

* * * * *

After taking leave of the Cairns, Geoffrey and Asako crossed the
garden compound, white and Christmas-like under its covering of
snow. They found their way down the by-path which led to the discreet
seclusion of Reggie Forsyth's domain. The leaping of fire shadows
against the lowered blinds gave a warm and welcoming impression of
shelter and comfort; and still more welcoming were the sounds of the
piano. It was a pleasure for the travellers to hear, for they had long
been unaccustomed to the sound of music. Music should be the voice
of the soul of the house; in the discord of hotels it is lost and
scattered, but the home which is without music is dumb and imperfect.

Reggie must have heard them coming, for he changed the dreamy melody
which he was playing into the chorus of a popular song which had been
rife in London a year ago. Geoffrey laughed. "Father's home again!
Father's home again!" he hummed, fitting the words to the tune, as he
waited for the door to open.

They were greeted in the passage by Reggie. He was dressed in all
respects like a Japanese gentleman, in black silk _haori_ (cloak),
brown wadded kimono and fluted _hakama_ (skirt). He wore white _tabi_
(socks) and straw _zori_ (slippers). It is a becoming and sensible
dress for any man.

"I thought it must be you," he laughed, "so I played the watchword.
Fancy you're being so homesick already. Please come in, Mrs.
Harrington. I have often longed to see you in Japan, but I never
thought you would come; and let me take your coat off. You will find
it quite warm indoors."

It was warm indeed. There was the heat of a green-house in Reggie's
artistically ordered room. It was larger too than on the occasion
of Geoffrey's visit; for the folding doors which led into a further
apartment were thrown open. Two big fires were blazing; and old gold
screens, glittering like Midas's treasury, warded off the draught from
the windows. The air was heavy with fumes of incense still rising from
a huge brass brazier, full of glowing charcoal and grey sand, placed
in the middle of the floor. In one corner stood the Buddha table
twinkling in the firelight. The miniature trees were disposed along
the inner wall. There was no other furniture except an enormous black
cushion lying between the b