"No, Yuki San, you don't ever want to be a coquette. You want to be your sweet little self, and make a good wife to that handsome soldier Saito, with all his gold braid and dingle-dangles. But what about breakfast? You see, my train leaves in an hour. If you don't give me something to fill my honorable insides, I'll have to eat you, sure enough."
In mock fear she quickly brought a low table from an inner room, and with deft hands placed the steaming soup and broiled fish before him. The knife and fork were a concession to Merrit's inability to wield the chopsticks, and sitting on his heels was Merrit's concession to the inability of the house to provide a chair.
"Hello!" he said, picking up a long-stemmed rose, "where did you find this beauty?"
"I guessed her with my nose," the girl answered. "You know what make her heart so red? Long time ago, most beautiful princess love with wrong man. Make Buddha ve'y angly, and he turn her body into white rose. But her heart just stay all time red 'cause of beautiful love that was there."
"My! he's a fierce old customer, that Buddha of yours," said Merrit.
Yuki San paused in the filling of the rice-bowl and looked at him gravely:
"Merrit San, do you know God?"
"Do I know God?" he repeated, with a half-embarrassed laugh.
"Yes, Christians' God, what you must love and love, but no never can see till die-time come. You know, Merrit San?" Then, lowering her voice in earnest inquiry, she went on: "You believe that Christians' God more better for Japanese girl than Buddha?"
For a moment Merrit felt the hot blood of confusion rise to his temples. The role of spiritual adviser was a new and somewhat embarrassing one. Struggling for expression, he floundered hopelessly.