His mistress, as it happens, has also not had the best few weeks.

She and Elsie are... well, they're scraping by. Elsie takes whatever odd jobs will hire and Simone smiles, charming-charming-charming, and lets men think she loves them and them alone and doesn't say a word that might imply otherwise, or imply that she's not the born-and-bred society girl her accent should be coming from. Elsie doesn't make Simone pay rent (read: doesn't let Simone pay rent) and Simone pays for her own groceries, helped by the fact that she's got boys taking her out to eat more nights than not, but it's-- well, it's working. It's working fine, and if it ever doesn't, she'll figure it out and land on her feet, like she always does.

Ichiro Sano is her favorite boyfriend (well, favorite except for Nigel, but Nigel hardly counts, Nigel's a friend), and she would be delighted to accompany him tonight.

He greets her at her door and bows politely. (He knows British people don't bow but-- it itches not to.) "Good evening, Miss Burr."

Charming brilliant beautiful smile. "Good evening."

He takes her arm and escorts her to the cab. "Have things been going well?"

(He walks with a limp still. It can't be helped.)

She notices. She doesn't comment. "They have," she lies, and talks about Nigel's new art exhibition and Elsie's music.

Nigel's new art exhibition sounds very interesting! He has some intelligent comments on it.

(They chose him for his job for a reason. He's always loved beautiful things. He's always loved painting.)

(Beauty makes him shudder, these days.)

The girl who Simone Burr becomes when she's on Ichiro's arm isn't a lie, exactly. Simone isn't giving him a false self, she's just... controlling the angle from which she's visible. And the version of herself she shows to Ichiro doesn't have a worry in the world except for the successes of her very talented yet respectable friends. She's thrilled to talk about Nigel's paintings.

When he was a child, Ichiro was honest.

His honesty isn't even the most important thing he gave up for his country, but it's the one he's reminded of most often, the one that itches in his mind like a grain of sand in an oyster and all he can hope is that it'll become a pearl. 

Yusa is the only one he can be honest with-- Yusa, whose whole business is dealing in lies and shadows and illusions, Yusa whose face he's never seen without its layer of paint like armor.

(He loves her. He loves all his mistresses, but he loves her most of all. He doesn't love his wife, but he does his duty by her; he is kind and he provides for all her wants and he does not bother her except when it is time to give her a child, and then he carries out his duties without repugnance.)

When he opens his wallet to pay the cab driver, Simone can see a picture of a Japanese child, about three years old, and the picture of a Japanese woman. 

Ichiro isn't the first boyfriend of Simone's to be going behind his wife's back. He isn't even the third. She doesn't react in any way that's visible; she does file the information away, and takes his arm as she gets out of the cab.

The child is his son; the woman is Yusa, the geisha he loves. He doesn't care to think about his wife more than necessary.

"Is there anything lovely you've had your eye on?"