She thought all American women were blonde.
The maid brought the tobaco-bon, which he declined. Then she brought tea and confections, which she put between them.
"Mister Ji-Saburo—I got call you Mister, don' I? I been tell that I got call you Mister."
"Call me what you like. I am no Mister, I am a Japanese." He said it savagely. She leaned toward him with dewy eyes.
"Oh, thang the good Shaka! Then I—I go'n' call you jus'—Liddle Round One, aha! Lig we use' do long—long ago."
"I shall tell you about the purple-eyed women. There was one. And I thought I was American enough to pay court to her."
"Wha' 's that mos' tarrible word? " begged the girl, in mock alarm.
"There is no Japanese for it. It is trying to make a girl care for you—love you—by associating with her. I asked her to marry me finally—"
"You as' the girl—herself?—not her father?—an' all her uncles? "
"In America the girl herself decides."
"How that is nize! " sighed Madame Glory. Ji-Saburo remained silent.
