an's explanation of the country into which he
had tried to sink, but which had rejected him. He explains the present
by the past. That is reasonable. The dead are the real rulers of
Japan, he says. Underneath the surface changing, the nation is deeply
conservative, suspicious of all interference and unconventionally,
sullenly self-satisfied; and above all, still as much locked in its
primitive family system as it was a thousand years ago. You cannot be
friends with a Japanese unless you are friends with his family; and
you cannot be friends with his family unless you belong to it. This is
the deadlock; and this is why we never get any forwarder."

"Then I've got a chance since I've got a Japanese family."

"I don't know of course," said Reggie; "but I shouldn't think they
would have much use for you. They will receive you most politely; but
they will look upon you as an interloper and they will try to steer
you out of the country."

"But my wife?" said Geoffrey, "she is their own flesh and blood, after
all."

"Well, of course, I don't know. But if they are extremely friendly
I should look out, if I were you. The Japanese are conventionally
hospitable, but they are not cordial to strangers unless they have a
very strong motive."

Geoffrey Barrington looked in the direction where his wife was seated
on a corner of the big cushion, turning over one by one a portfolio
full of parti-colored woodprints on their broad white mounts. The
firelight flickered round her like a crowd of importunate thoughts.
She felt that he was looking at her, and glanced across at him.

"Can you see in there, Mrs. Barrington, or shall I turn the lights
on?" asked her host.

"Oh, no," answered the little lady, "that would spoil it. The pictures
look quite alive in the firelight. What a lovely collection you've
got!"

"There's nothing very valuable there," said Reggie, "but they are very
effective, I think, even the cheap ones."

Asako was holding up a pied engraving of a sinuous Japanese woman, an
Utamaro from an old block recut, in dazzling raiment, with her sash
tied in front of her and her head bristling with amber pins like a
porcupine.

"Geoffrey, will you please take me to see the Yoshiwara?" she asked.

The request dismayed Geoffrey. He knew well enough what was to be seen
at the Yoshiwara. He would have been interested to visit the licensed
quarter of the demi-monde himself in the company of--say Reggie
Forsyth. But this was