She has one fortunately.
Olive San told me a whole lot about her great brother.
He is a promising artist.
Artist?
Doesn’t an artist affect boorish hair? I was anxious to know how his hair was, because I hated anything long except a frock-coat.
Miss Olive declared him one handsome boy. (I thought how ridiculous is the American girl to praise her brother. It is Japanese etiquette to undervalue one’s relatives in describing them.)
I finished my imaginary sketch of his face before we intruded in his studio.
Olive presented me to him.
He was a comely young man.
What gratified me most about him was his shapely shoes, well-polished.