In a picturesque villa among picturesque surroundings the Motor Maids spend a happy vacation. The charm of Japan,--her cherry blossoms, her temples, her quaint customs, her polite people,--is reflected in all their delightful experiences.
features regular, his mouth firm with a good square chin, and his clear dark eyes under bushy brows gazed on the world with a frank, good-humored expression.
Yoritomo Ito was the best type of Japanese, lithe and straight, rather tall, with shrewd brown eyes and a smile that always hovered about his shapely mouth. He was immaculately neat and his skin looked as if it might have been scrubbed and then polished. Not a speck of dust marred his spotless linen or his dark blue suit.
"Mr. Ito, will you sit on a mat on the floor or in a chair?" asked Miss Campbell when the introductions were over.
"Oh, he can be Japanese or American, whichever suits him," interrupted Mr. Campbell, "though I'll wager you didn't do much floor sitting when you went to Harvard, did you, Yoritomo?"
The Japanese's smile broadened somewhat when he answered with a slight accent:
"American floors are not intended to be used as chairs."
"Meaning, Mr. Ito, that the American floors are not as entirely fr
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