"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 _saké_ 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 Shidzuyé 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 pillow like the block of history, the white sheets and the heavy padded coverlet with sleeves like an enormous kimono. They roil up all these _yagu_ (night implements), fold them and put them away into an unsuspected cupboard in the architecture of the veranda. Mr. Fujinami Gentaro still snores.