"No, it's all right. It is Saturday, and I was thinking of going to the pictures."
The pictures! So she was another of Japan's millions of movie worshipers who form their ideas of Western civilization from the frenzied life of the cinema, Wild West pictures of cowboys rescuing lovely heroines from Indians and bandits, dainty damsels abducted in madly racing automobiles, passionate love scenes in lavishly upholstered abodes of plutocracy, gun-play and murder in city streets—all the wildly gyrating, delirious melodrama which ingenuous Japan seriously believes to be representative of life on the other side of the ocean. The thought of the discomfort of most of the Tokyo movie theaters, ramshackle fire-traps crowded with squirming, perspiring humanity, stifling in the afternoon heat, repelled him; still, it would not matter.
"I like the pictures very much too," he lied. "I wish you would let me go with you."
But she shook her head determinedly. No, a foreigner and a Japanese girl! It was too unusual.
"But are you then so old-fashioned?" He noted her quick frown. He had gained a little. "Are you then one of these Japanese who, like the old shoguns, want to hold Japan apart from the rest of civilization?" Now he knew he had the right argument.
She flashed at him. "I am not old-fashioned." Her tone softened a little. "But, of course, you know it is a little unusual for a Japanese girl and a foreign man to go on the street together."
He sensed that he had won and made no further argument, only rose and waited while she took away the tray. Together they went down the steps.
"And now where?" he asked.
"Why, Uyeno, of course, the art exhibition. I thought you——"