She smiled back at them over her shoulder. The frank, honest kindliness of the couple pleased her. The piazza opened into a small sitting-room with cool bamboo chairs and portières of thin green silk stenciled with maple-leaves. "Will you wait a moment, Barbara?" asked Ware. "I have something to show you." She stopped, looking at him with a trace of confusion. "Certainly," she answered. "What is it?" He put a folded paper into her hands. "To-day is the anniversary of our meeting," he said. "This is a memento." She took it with a puzzled look and scrutinized it. Wonder filled her face. "You have made over your yacht to me!" she cried. "My engagement gift," he said. "She is your namesake; I want her to be yours." A flush crept over her cheek. She knew the yacht was his favorite possession and the action touched her. At the same time it brought swiftly home to her, in a concrete way, a numbing reminder of the imminence of her marriage. "The deed has been recorded," he went on, "and the sailing-master and crew have signed articles under the new owner. Perhaps you will let me come aboard of her to hear that _samisen_ record," he added whimsically. "There's a phonograph in her outfit." She smiled, a little tremulously. "You are most kind, Austen," she said. "I--I don't know what to say." "Then say nothing," he answered cheerfully. He stepped to the door and drew aside the portière. She was agitated, feeling unable to meet the situation in the conventional way. At the threshold she paused and held out her hand. He bent and kissed it. She half-hesitated, but in the pause there was a laughing voice and a footstep in the hall. "It's Patsy," she said, and passed quickly out. As Ware walked back across the foot-bridge, the proprietor of the phonograph called to him. "I clean forgot to ask the young lady where to send this record," he said. "Do you know her address?" "It will be more or less uncertain, I fancy," said Ware. "But her yacht is in Yokohama harbor. It is named the _Barbara_. You might send it there." CHAPTER XLI UNFORGOT The sharp sense of imminence which had come to Barbara with Austen Ware's gift remained with her that evening. The dinner was none too merry. For the first time Patricia had failed to be enthused over the Nikko _matsuri_, and the bishop, since Haru's disappearance, had lacked his usual sallies. Barbara had told him nothing of her visit to the house in the Street-of-the-Misty-Valley; to speak of it would probe her own wound too deeply.