"Because you understand them better?"
"Not only that," she said slowly, "but I think that men who write novels try to make the women happy, and the women who write novels do not do that so much; and I think the women must be nearer the truth."
She turned suddenly on me:
"You have written a book."
"Guilty," I said.
"And what does that mean?"
"It means that I have," I said lamely. We talked international differences.
"American women use very many pins, is it not true?"
"I think it is true," I said.
"We do not," she said; "we use what you call"—with her fingers on a little cord at the breast of her kimono—"strings. But," she added suddenly, "an American says to me that I must not speak of such things."