“Quite,” I told him. “They are one of the features provided strictly for the public.”
“So kind!” said the acquiescent Japanese.
We went to lunch with a friend of mine whose plutocracy was not entirely intact, and but for one instructive incident it was an ordinary civilized meal. That incident, however, shall live long in my memory because of my inability to interpret it to Okura.
We had just finished melon, the six of us who sat down, when the third man was called to the telephone.
He came back, napkin in hand, and said to his hostess, “I’m awfully sorry, I’ve got to leave.”
His hostess looked apprehensive. “I hope it’s nothing serious?”
“Oh, not at all; please don’t worry,” he responded, plumping down his napkin, “but I’ve just had a message from Mrs. Jinks. She’s a man short and she wants me to come over to luncheon. So long. Awfully sorry!”
“What did that mean, please?” Okura inquired, as we hurried back to see Kumagae play.
“Do you mean, democratically?”
“Yes.”