"What do you mean?"
He went on slowly:
"I was wondering if it is the custom in your country for ladies to smoke and drink liquor in public places?"
"Ladies!" I repeated amazed. "American women smoke and drink in public or other places! Certainly not," I declared emphatically. "Why do you hint at such a thing?"
Thirty years' absence from my country had glorified my ideal of its womanhood.
"Only this," said Kishimoto San, "several times while in Yokohama I had occasion to visit the Ocean Hotel. On the broad veranda facing the sea were seated numbers of great men and ladies together, many of them were smoking and I could not count the number of cocktails they consumed."
"They were not American women," was my vigorous protest.
"Yes, madam, they were. First they were beautiful and sparkle with eyes and tongue. All men bow down to them same as we bow to our Empress. Then afterwards I examine register and clerk of hotel confirm my thought."
"Possibly what you say is true, Kishimoto San, but hasn't it a flavor of littleness to label as a national habit the acts of a few exhilarated travelers? What have you to say of the vast army of American women who could not be forced into doing the things you mention?"
"Nothing. Except I was just wondering how America could spare so many missionaries. You know we do not beg for their company."