Asako’s yearnings for proof of her husband’s innocence were crushed.

“What shall I do?” she pleaded.

“I’m sure I don’t know.”  This scene to Reggie was becoming positively silly.  “Take him back to England as soon as possible, I should think.”

“But would he fall in love with women in England?”

“Possibly.”

“Then what am I to do?”

“Grin and bear it.  That’s what we all have to do.”

“Oh, Mr. Forsyth,” Asako implored, “you know my husband so well.  Do you think he is a bad man?”

“No, not worse than the rest of us,” answered Reggie, who felt quite maddened by this talk.  “He is a bit of a fool, and a good deal of a blunderer.”

“But do you think Geoffrey was to blame for what happened?”

“I have told you, my dear Mrs. Barrington, that your husband assured me that nothing actually happened.  I am quite sure this is true, for your husband is a very honourable man—­in details.”

“You mean,” said Asako, gulping out the words, “that Miss Smith was not actually Geoffrey’s—­mistress; they did not—­sin together.”

Asako did not know how intimate were the relations between Reggie and Yae.  She did not understand therefore how cruelly her words lanced him.  But, more than the shafts of memory it was the imbecility of the whole scene which almost made the young man scream.

“Exactly,” he answered.  “In the words of the Bible, she lay with him, but he knew her not.”

“Then, do you think I ought to forgive Geoffrey?”

This was too much.  Reggie leaped to his feet.

“My dear lady, that is really a question for yourself and yourself alone.  Personally, I do not at present feel like forgiving anybody.  Least of all, can I forgive fools.  Geoffrey Harrington is a fool.  He was a fool to marry, a fool to marry you, a fool to come to Japan when everybody warned him not to, a fool to talk to Yae when everybody told him that she was a dangerous woman.  No, personally, at present I cannot forgive Geoffrey Barrington.  But it is very late and I am very tired, and I’m sure you are, too.  I would advise you to go home to your erring husband; and to-morrow morning we shall all be thinking more clearly.  As the French say, L’oreiller raccommode tout.”

Asako still made no movement.

“Well, dear lady, if you wish to wait longer, you will excuse me, if, instead of talking rot, I play to you.  It is more soothing to the nerves.”

He sat down at the piano, and struck up the Merry Widow chorus,—­

“I’ll go off to Maxim’s:  I’ve done with lovers’ dreams; The girls will laugh and greet me, they will not trick and cheat me; Lolo, Dodo, Joujou, Cloclo, Margot, Frou-frou, I’m going off to Maxim’s, and you may go to—­”

The pianist swung around on his stool:  his visitor had gone.

* * * * *