The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1910-12-28
Ne Xingdom Of
Slender 3words
Copyright, Bobbs-Merrill Company
CHAPTER XXI
A Man Named Ware


The three stored front of the Cher,
ry Moon Tea House, when Daunt's
party arrived, was glowing with tiers
of large round lanterns of oiled paper
bearing a conventionalized moon and
cherry blossoms. At the door sat rows
of little velvet lined sandals. Here
shoes were discarded, and servants
drew on the guests feet loose slippers
of cotton cloth, soft and yielding. One
other guest was awaiting the party at
the entrance This was Captain Wis
count Sakai, of the General Staff,
spruce, fine featured and in immacu-
late European evening dress. He had
clear, olive complexion, and, save for
the narrow, japanese eye, might have
been taken for a Spaniard.
Tiny square tables of black lacquer
were disposed along three sides of the
room, one for each guest. They were
but four inches high and on the floor
behind each lay thin, flat zabuton or
cushion of brocade. The bowling gels
ha in wonderful rainbow kimono who
awaited them might have stepped
from the temple stage at Mukojima.
These pointed to the tables with in
viting smiles:
"Plee shee down. they said in uni
son.
The meal began merrily. Barbara
sat on Daunt's left, with one of the
attaches next her. Baroness Stroloff
was on Daunt's other hand. Barbara
remembered it afterward as a meal of
elfish daintiness-of warm, pungent,
wine like liquor in blue porcelain
bottles, of food of strange look and
cloying taste, highly colored and sea-
soned, in a hundred tiny red and black
lacquer dishes that carried her back
to her doll days, with covers patterned
in gold, served by prostrating geisha
whose kimono were woven with violet
Fujis, winged dragons and marvellous
exotic blossoms.
Across the soft shoo-shoo OF spot
less, tabi clad feet, the fitting of
bright hued kimono, the gay badinage
that flew about the low tables, Daunt
felt her beauty thrill him from head
to foot like garment OF mist and
fire. AS she dropped her hand to the
cushion it had touched his, and for an
instant their pulses had seemed to
throb into one. The tiny, lacquered
cup she took up trembling in her fin
gers.
She started when the young army
officer nearest her said: speaking of
sailing, give me steam yacht like the
one that berthed yesterday at Yoko-
homa. She belongs to man named
Ware-Austen Ware-a New Yorker,
understand Perhaps you know him,
Miss Fairfax"
81 have met him." she answered.
The young army officer looked up
quickly-he was an enthusiastic
yachtsman. "A beautiful vessel" he
said. 81 noticed her today, but she
was too far away to make out her
name
ut is the Barbara" said Voynich.
"Why-" exclaimed Patricia, that's
-" She bit her tongue, caught some
thing in Barbara's face. Good gra-
cious!" she ended. "My-my foot's
asleep!"
Barbara had felt her flush fading to
paleness. She felt quick relief that
none there, save Patricia and Daunt,
knew her first name. In the diversion
caused by Patricias helpless efforts to
stand up, she stole a glance at Daunt.
shadow had fallen on his face.
He did not look at her, but in his brain
the yachts name was ringing like
knell. She knew Pills brother! Aus
ten Wares yacht had arrived in Yoko-
hama on the same day as her ship.
And it was named the Barbara. Yet
tonight he had dreamed-what had he
been dreaming? These thoughts mixed
themselves weirdly with the gaiety
and nonsense that he forced himself to
render.
Barbara felt this with an aching
sense of resentment. What was he
thinking of her? And why should she
care SO fiercely? The courses passed,
but the lightness and blithness of the
scene were somewhat chilled. The
decorative food: the numberless, tiny
cups and trays; the taper, pink tinted
fingers that poured the warm drink;
the kimono, the music and lights
all palled.
She was glad when the Baroness
decreed the dinner over repeating
Patricia's experiment of painful I'M
folding and calling for her wraps.
CHAPTER Xxi
At the Shrine of the Fox God.
The street into which they troOped |