come. It was the blonde woman they had seen on the deck of the passenger-steamer.
They were quite silent after she was gone—the consul still at his desk, his head bowed impotently in his hands.
Cho-Cho-San rose presently, and staggered toward him. She tried desperately to smile, but her lips were tightly drawn against her teeth. Searching unsteadily in her sleeve, she drew out a few small coins, and held them out to him. He curiously took them on his palm.
"They are his, all that is left of his beautiful moaney. I shall need no more. Give them to him. I lig if you also say I sawry—no, no, no! glad—glad—glad!" She humbly sighed. "Me? I—I wish him that happiness same lig he wish for himself—an'—an'—me. Me? I—shall be—happy mebby. Tell him I—shall be—happy."
Her head drooped for a moment. When she raised it she was quite emotionless, if one might judge from her face.
"Thang him—that Mr. B. F. Pikkerton—also for all that kineness he have been unto me. Permit me to thang you, augustness, for that same. You—you"—she could smile a little now at the pretty recollection
