“So much,” Madame Takasaki raised her hands as if measuring her meaning. “American people so nice,” she smiled and nodded at her questioner. “But it so strange they have so large noses, the noses give me terror.” Ethel, following Madame Takasaki’s glance, laughed outright; truly her compatriots’ noses did appear large when compared to the small features of the Japanese. The arrival of Maru Takasaki, who had left them a few minutes before, with another Japanese prevented her reply, and she was introduced to Mr. Saito who, Madame Takasaki explained, had arrived only that morning.
“You speak Japanese, Mees Ogden?” inquired Saito.
Ethel recalled a phrase she had picked up in looking over a Japanese-Italian phrase book, meaning, “Not yet,” and in a spirit of mischief, she responded, “Mada-mada,” then dimly wondered at the alteration in her companion’s manner. But Julian Barclay’s abrupt arrival gave her no time to question Saito.
“Won’t you go into supper with me, Miss Ogden?” demanded Barclay eagerly.
“Thanks, but I cannot,” Ethel’s eyes sparkled at the disappointment which Barclay made no attempt to hide. “But perhaps——”
“Yes?” eagerly, as she stopped tantalizingly.
“I see there is dancing in the ballroom, and after supper——”
“You’ll dance with me?” eager anticipation in his voice.
“If you are good.” Ethel turned to include Mr. Saito in their conversation, but he had moved over to the ambassador’s side and was talking eagerly to him and Maru Takasaki. They turned simultaneously and looked at Ethel and she was surprised by the concentration of their gaze. Angered by their staring, she turned abruptly to Barclay. “I promised to go out to supper with Professor Norcross. Have you seen him?”
“Not since we reached here,” moodily. “He monopolized you shamefully all this evening. Can’t think what you see in the old fogy.”