“Isn’t he fine?” he said, looking up at the God.

She started at the sound of his voice, and put her arms round his neck again.

“Oh, Geoffrey,” she murmured, “how strong you are!”

He stood up laughing, with the girl in his arms.

“If it wasn’t for your big obi” he said, “you would weigh nothing at all.  Now hold tight; for I am going to carry you home.”

He started down the avenue with a swinging stride.  Yae could watch almost within range of her lips the powerful profile of his big face, a soldier’s face trained to command strong men and to be gentle to women and children.  There was a delicious fragrance about him, the dry heathery smell of clean men.  He did not look down at her.  He was staring into the black shadows ahead, his mind still full of that sudden vision of Buddha Amitabha.  He was scarcely thinking of the half-caste girl who clung tightly to his neck.

Yae had no interest in the Dai-Butsu except as a grand background for love-making, a good excuse for hand squeezings and ecstatic movements.  She had tried it once before with her school-master lover.  It never occurred to her that Geoffrey was in any way different from her other admirers.  She thought that she herself was the sole cause of his emotion and that his fixed expression as he strode in the darkness was an indication of his passion and a compliment to her charms.  She was too tactful to say anything, or to try to force the situation; but she felt disappointed when at the approach of lighted houses he put her down without further caresses.  In silence they returned to the hotel, where a few tired couples were still revolving to a spasmodic music.

Geoffrey was weary now; and the enchantment of the wine had passed away.

“Good-night, Yae,” he said.

She was holding the lapels of his coat, and she would have dearly loved to kiss him again.  But he stood like a tower without any sign of bending down to her; and she would have had to jump for the forbidden fruit.

“Good-night, Geoffrey,” she purred, “I will never forget to-night.”

“It was lovely,” said the Englishman, thinking of the Great Buddha.

* * * * *

Geoffrey retired to his room, where Asako was sleeping peacefully.  He was very English.  Only the first surprise of the girl’s kiss had startled his loyalty.  With the ostrich-like obtuseness, which our continental neighbours call our hypocrisy, he buried his head in his principles.  As Asako’s husband, he could not flirt with another woman.  As Reggie’s friend, he would not flirt with Reggie’s sweetheart.  As an honourable man, he would not trifle with the affections of a girl who meant nothing whatever to him.  Therefore the incident of the Great Buddha had no significance.  Therefore he could lie down and sleep with a light heart.

Geoffrey had been sleeping for half an hour or so when he was awakened by a sudden jolt, as though the whole building had met with a violent collision, or as though a gigantic fist had struck it.  Everything in the room was in vibration.  The hanging lamp was swinging like a pendulum.  The pictures were shaking on the walls.  A china ornament on the mantelpiece reeled, and fell with a crash.