Then suddenly she caught sight of him, and
her face broke into a radiant smile as she waved her hand and nodded.
A moment later and his eyes were straining after a figure that was fast
disappearing up the bund. It was a small, alert figure, disturbingly
young and sweet and buoyant. The flying jinrikisha, the hair blowing
across her cheek, the scarf that fluttered in the breeze, all suggested
flight, and flight to the masculine mind is only another term for
pursuit.
He flung down his paper and strode out to the lobby.
"When is the next train for Kioto?" he demanded.
"At ten to-night, sir."
"Make out my bill, and get my luggage down; I'm leaving on that train."
"But, sir, you have made no reservation. You may have to sit up all
night."
"Have you any objections?" asked the Honorable Percival in his most
insular manner.
X
ON THE SEARCH
The clerk's prophecy proved all too true. Percival and his valet sat all
night in a crowded, smoke-dimmed car, between a fat Japanese wrestler
and a fatter Buddhist priest, both of whom squatted on their heels and
read aloud in monotonous, wailing tones. The air was close, and the
floor was strewn with orange peel, spilt tea, and cigarette ends.
Percival's fastidious senses were offended as they had never been
offended before. Under ordinary circumstances nothing could have induced
him to submit to such discomfort, but the circumstances were not
ordinary.
The alternative of remaining calmly in Yokohama and allowing an
aggressive young American to monopolize the girl of his even temporary
choice was utterly intolerable.
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