The society gives wonderful banquets and yammers away about the
Brotherhood of Man and sends out pro-Japanese propaganda. Really, it's
a wonderful institution, Miss Parker. The millionaire white men of New
York finance the society, and the Japs run it. It was some shrewd
Japanese member of the Japan Society who sent you to Okada on this
land-deal, was it not, Mr. Parker?"
"You're too good a guesser for comfort," the latter parried. "I'm
going to write some letters. I'm motoring in to El Toro this
afternoon, and I'll want to mail them."
"'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof'," Don Miguel assured him
lightly. "Whenever you feel the urge for further information about
yourself and your Japanese friends, I am at your service. I expect to
prove to you in about three lessons that you have unwittingly permitted
yourself to develop into a very poor citizen, even if you did load up
with Liberty Bonds and deliver four-minute speeches during all of the
loan drives."
"Oh, I'm as good as the average American, despite what you say,"
retorted the banker, good-naturedly, as he left them.
The master of Palomar gazed after the retreating figure of his guest.
In his glance there was curiosity, pain, and resignation. He continued
to stare at the door through which Parker had disappeared, until roused
from his reverie by Kay's voice.
"The average American doesn't impress you greatly, does he, Don Mike?"
"Oh, I'm not one of that supercilious breed of Americans which toadies
to an alleged European culture by finding fault with his own people,"
he hastened to assure her.
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