Its course is most like the temperature chart of a typhoid fever case: tremendous ups and downs, fever point now, a few hours later almost normal.
He clapped his hands, and Pine-breeze appeared.
“Breakfast,” he said. “You’ll stay to breakfast,” turning to Jane. “And there is something I forgot day before yesterday. You have come to see Japan—well, look here—”
He went to a big lacquer cabinet where he kept his papers, and returned with a large, square, cream-colored card covered with Chinese ideographs.
“What is it?” said Jane, turning it over.
“An invitation to a garden-party. A man named Kamamura is giving it to-morrow at O-Mura.”
“A Japanese garden-party!” said Jane, with interest in her voice.
“Yes, very Japanese. He told me to bring any of my friends.”
“But to-morrow,” said Jane—“I am going away to-morrow.”
The words went through him like a pang.