"Tell me some more about these poor people," she asked. "You know, they came here once, a lot of poor women, and wanted to talk to my husband. But he was not here. I crept outside and hid in the shrubbery so I could watch them. They were standing there by the gate and stretching their arms in through the iron grilles. I felt so sorry for them. I wanted to go and talk to them, to have them come in here and talk to me; but I was afraid. I know nothing about business. They might not have liked it, the men in charge of the business. I was afraid of them, these grave, old men who are in charge of the factories and the mines and all that. I was more afraid of them than of my husband. He knows so little of the business, too, you know."
So this was the lady whose silken shift was dyed crimson with blood from working girls' fingers. He wondered if she knew the song; probably not; she lived as if she were thousands of miles removed from the grim sordidness whence was evolved almost miraculously all this wealth of beauty and art. But as he began to tell her about it, it seemed so futile, so incongruous, like trying to contaminate the frail fairness of a hothouse orchid with thought of the grimy coal mines which furnished fuel for the heat which gave it life. He could understand how it was possible for these people, the plutocrats, to be innocent of realization of the meanness of the sources of their wealth. Again he wanted to get away from the subject.
"This is a wonderful garden," he stepped up to a window. "I admire the artistry with which it has been fashioned. Here you can see but a bit of Italy. You would never know that Tokyo is right beyond."
"I'm so glad you like it. That is my great interest, the gardens," she was quite radiant. "And beyond that, below the terrace, we have a typical Japanese garden, just like real, old Japan. You must see it some time. I'm often quite lonesome, you know. Some day, when you are not too busy, you must come and have tea with me, and I will show you all the gardens."
She went on, telling of the plans for an artificial waterfall, run by an invisible electric pump, which she was having constructed; about the chrysanthemums which she was nurturing carefully for exhibition at the great November show at Hibiya. He enjoyed her, just like that, with her natural, ingenuous concern with beauty of flowers, the congruous interest of a gentlewoman of Japan. And as she went on, with bright eyes and soft voice, and the picture flashed into his mind of the women, hard-voiced, stridently storming at the gate, the conviction came to him that should this occur while he was here, were they to come this moment, he would do what he could to keep this dainty, pure, flower-like little woman away, removed from the grim realities which must not be suffered to enter disturbingly into the serenity of her existence.