"Whatever my attitude may be towards
Vienna and Petrograd (and, mind you, I am not feeling at all bitter towards
Vienna), my relations with Turkey are most certainly strained."
"No, not strained, ze Turkish coffee," he cried eagerly; "eet has ze
grounds."
"So have I," I told him; "we will call it the Macedonian coffee. It is you
who insisted in obtruding these international relations on my simple lunch,
and I mean to do the thing thoroughly. Better a dish of Croat Serbs where
love is than a bifteck Petrograd--Never mind, go and get the thing."
When he returned with it I fell to, but my thoughts remained with the
waiter. What a man! With his dispassionate judgment, his calm sane outlook
on men and affairs, shaken a little perhaps in 1914, but since then
undisturbed, was he not cut out above all others to settle the vexed
frontier lines of Europe? I wondered whether Lord ROBERT CECIL might not
possibly make use of him. I was tempted to try him still further.
"Have you ever heard of Mr.
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