CHAPTER IV.
All has gone well, and I am to be married to-morrow. Kotmasu is to be best man, and for this purpose he has hunted out from the depths of his disused steamer-trunk an antiquated suit of Bond Street “morning attire,” a relic of his stay in London; which, if less modern, is more correct than the creations of Kinew, the Anglo–Japanese tailor near the quay, who has a tendency, so I am told, to make his coats short in the waist.
Mousmé’s mother is delighted—a state of mind perhaps not altogether unconnected with various handsome presents which faithful Kotmasu, who should be a member of the corps diplomatique, naively suggested my making her.
The marriage can be very easily con-
