Matsuko came in, wearing a patterned cotton yukata, and served tea from a bamboo tray. It was green tea, ground leaves still swirling in the little china pot, and as he sipped the bitter liquid he was grateful that Matsuko had not put him through the rigorously formal tea ceremony. "Sugar?" Miyoki asked. Peter shook his head, thinking how out of the ordinary it was to be squatting on the tatami of a Japanese house taking tea with the mistress of a vanished friend.
1967