The second story is about a warm friendship that developed long ago in Japan between a foreign merchant, a Japanese man attached to the Tourist Bureau, and a Canadian-born and educated Japanese girl. Time passed and they separated, but the friendship continued via correspondence. While doing business in Shanghai, the merchant, aware of conditions in Japan, sent the girl a pair of leather shoes on a whim. On his way home to Europe, he got stuck in Manila, where a year and a half later he chanced upon his old friend from the Tourist Bureau. The latter was so overwhelmed that he actually embraced our hero. The friendship continued as before and they supped together regularly, though some months later the merchant felt his friend was starting to avoid him.

One day the Japanese showed up with a letter smuggled in by warship, addressed to him from their mutual friend in Tokyo — now an Army Nurse. She inserted two plain-English passages on separate pages meant for her merchant friend.

Remember those shoes you sent me from Shanghai? How I have blessed you for them! You have no idea how handy they have been. I am still wearing them although they badly need repairing. Could you send me a piece of leather?

We are suffering terribly from hunger. If you could but send me one kilo of sugar, as I understand there is much of it in the Philippines.

The letter was folded and returned. The two stared silently into space as time inched along. In the distance, the lapping waters of Manila Bay continued to wash the breakwater as faithfully as old friends empathize with each other's misfortunes. The sunset, smeared in grayish and foreboding clouds, hinted of the coming rains.

"Let's have some supper," said the merchant.

"Thank you very much, but I think I must return now."

The merchant insisted. His friend resisted, and finally offered this explanation:

"Thank you very much for all your invitations. You have been very kind ... but I simply cannot reciprocate. I am ashamed."

Our hero remembered the only time he supped at his friend's place in Manila. Truly the food was meager — all rice and a tiny serving of stew — and that was long ago. Maybe now it was worse. His friend continued:

We Japanese here are having a hard time. Our means are limited and costs are high. The only Japanese having a good time are the purchasing agents of the Army, Navy and civilian companies. Through the bribes they accept, they can, and do, live like kings; but for most of us, it is not possible. We suffer here, as well as in Japan. But we suffer ... sacrifice ... willingly. Ah, but the future, I think, is very dark.