To try the cake, you eat some? Is
that right?"

He repeated his joke in Japanese. The girl wriggled with
embarrassment, and finally scuttled away across the room, while the
others laughed.

All the _geisha_ now hid their faces among much tittering.

Geoffrey was becoming harassed by this _badinage_; but he hated to
appear a prude, and said:

"I have got a wife, you know, Mr. Fujinami; she is keeping an eye on
me."

"No matter, no matter," the young man answered, waving his hand to and
fro; "we all have wife; wife no matter in Japan."

At last Geoffrey got back to his throne at Asako's side. He was
wondering what would be the next move in the game when, to his relief
and surprise, Ito, after a glance at his watch, said suddenly:

"It is now time to go home. Please say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs.
Fujinami."

A sudden dismissal, but none the less welcome.

The inner circle of the Fujinami had gathered round. They and the
_geisha_ escorted their guests to the rickshaws and helped them on
with their cloaks and boots. There was no pressing to remain; and as
Geoffrey passed the clock in the entrance hall he noticed that it
was just ten o'clock. Evidently the entertainment was run with strict
adherence to the time-table.

Some of the guests were too deep in _sake_ and flirtation to be
aware of the break-up; and the last vision granted to Geoffrey of the
M.P.--the fat man with the wen--was of a kind of Turkey Trot going
on in a corner of the room, and the thick arms of the legislator
disappearing up the lady's kimono sleeve.

CHAPTER XII

FALLEN CHERRY-BLOSSOM

_Iro wa nioedo
Chirinuru wo--
Woga yo tore zo
Tsune naran?
Ui no okuyama
Kyo koete,
Asaki yume miji
Ei mo sezu._

The colours are bright, but
The petals fall!
In this world of ours who
Shall remain forever?
To-day crossing
The high mountains of mutability,
We shall see no fleeting dreams,
Being inebriate no longer.

"_O hay[=o] gazaimas!_" (Respectfully early!)

Twitterings of maid-servants salute the lady of the house with the
conventional morning greeting. Mrs. Fujinami Shidzuye replies in the
high, fluty, unnatural voice which is considered refined in her social
set.

The servants glide into the room which she has just left, moving
noiselessly so as not to wake the master who is still sleeping. They
remove from his side the thick warm mattresses upon which his wife
has been lying, the hard wooden