We took each other's measure and she, pretty and saucy as a gay young robin, went on fearlessly:
"I'm an American to the backbone; I'm not going to be Japanese, or any kin to them. As long as I have to stay I'm going to pursue the heavenly scenery around here and put it on paper. Between pictures I'm going to have a good time—all I want to. Thank you for your invitation, but I have other engagements."
A wilful girl in a Japanese home! My disapproval fled. Soon enough life would administer reproof and stretch out a rough hand to stay her eagerness. I need add nothing.
A little depressed at losing her as a pupil and knowing that her defiance could only bring sorrow, I asked her gently, "Do you love good times?"
"Do I? Well, just wait till I get started. See if the slant eyes of the inhabitants will not have another angle before I get through. They need a few lessons on the rights of girls."
Neither Zura's home nor her parents seemed to have any part in her life. She told of a prank played at midnight one Hallowe'en.
"But," I asked, "did your mother permit you to be out at such an hour?"
"My mother!" she repeated with a light laugh. "My mother is nothing but a baby. She neither cared nor knew where I was or what I did."
"What about your father?" I ventured. "I understand you and he were great friends."
If I had struck the girl, the effect could not have been more certain. She arose quickly, her face aquiver with pain; she threw her hands forward as if in appeal to some unseen figure; then she moaned, "Oh! Daddy!" and she was gone.