than a fir tree--it's power, tenacity, independence. I know that
all your work is symbolical to you. What does the tree mean--Japan?"

She turned her head away, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her
fingers gripping his.

"It means--more to me than Japan," she murmured. "More to me than
life--it means--you," she added almost inaudibly.

He swept her up into his arms and carrying her out on to the
verandah, dropped into a big cane chair that was a concession to
his western limbs.

"You make a god of me, O Hara San," he said huskily.

"You are my god," she answered simply, and as he expostulated she
laid her soft palm over his mouth and nestled closer into his
arms.

"I talk now," she said quaintly. "I have much to tell."

But the promised news did not seem forthcoming for she grew silent
again, lying quietly content, rubbing her head caressingly from
time to time against his arm and twisting his watch-chain round
her tiny fingers.

The night was very quiet. No sound came from within the house, and
without only the soft wind murmuring in the trees, cicadas
chirping unceasingly and the little river dashing down the
hillside, splashing noisily, broke the stillness. Nature, the