No, he follows Andrews' advice.

Dear Sir Williard,

I did not take Hilda to my bed tonight, although the thought of having her over and over again did appeal to my masculine nature. There was something in the knowing look that the pretty maid had on her face that made me recall Andrews' warning about letting either one of the maids putting on airs. With my base carnal need under control after the short lapse, I was able to play the part of an angry master quite well. I was, in truth, a little bit annoyed that this buxom servant thought she'd be able to manipulate me that easily. I stepped out of her reach and sharply ordered the self-satisfied little minx to stand and cover herself; her eyes widened in fear and surprise when she realized that unlike in her past encounters with the males of her town, I could not be controlled like a puppet.

With the same firm tone I warned her that I did not want to catch her spying on me as she had the evening before and that I expected her to attend to her duties in the washroom and kitchen, not wander the house in search of mischief. She nodded her head and finished buttoning her dress. Feeling I had made my point I lifted her chin with my hand until she was looking up at me, I could see the hint of a tear forming at the corner of her eye and I brushed it away gently.

"You are" I told the trembling young maid "very pretty and have a most delightful way of pleasing me." She smiled shyly at my praise and asked me hopefully.

"Does that mean you will summon me again tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, my dear Hilda" I told her with a chuckle "I think I will have Akemi sent to my office."

The words were, at the time Sir Williard, merely a way to keep Hilda in line, but as I finish writing these notes I wonder more and more about what the quiet Nipponese maid would do if I told her to disrobe. Would she still maintain the unflappable poise I've come to expect from her, or would the improper demand finally pierce the serenity that she wears like a soft glowing aura? Any man would be intrigued by the lithe build and gentle grace of this Asian teenager, and I confess the thought of seeing her slip from the shapeless uniform and stand before me like a native goddess of love has undone all the good that Hilda was able to do to relieve the curse of this garden of Eden.

I wonder if you would agree with this thought, your Lordship, that I place on paper for the first time. Perhaps what is needed to manage the curse of the Blush is a daily release. If I allow myself the small shame of copulating with a servant (a willing servant at that) is this not far better than forsaking my professional oaths and honour as a gentleman by sullying the reputation and futures of the innocent daughters of the Lords and Ladies of the Empire whose care is placed into my hands.

Even as I reread this last paragraph I find my heart palpating wildly. Had you asked me even a week ago I would have soundly condemned this type of compromise. I believe you will remember that I argued strongly against the misuse of native women by their British masters even when I was living in Asia where the practice was particularly prevalent, and yet here I am suggesting just this solution to my difficulties. It is late, and this has been a long day compounded by the stress of my unexpected sexual encounter with Hilda. I can only hope that by morning this shameful idea will be once again sequestered in the deepest prison cell of my mind and I will be able to scratch out those words.