“In many other ways a comparison equally irreproachable to the exalted being at my side might be sought out,” I continued, suddenly forming the ill-destined judgment that I was no less competent than the more experienced Quang-Tsun to contrive delicate offerings of speech. “Their hair is rope like in its lack of spontaneous curve, their eyes as deficient in lustre as a half-shuttered window; their hands are exceedingly inferior in colour, and both on the left side, as it may be expressed; their legs--” but at this point the maiden drew herself so hastily into herself that I had no alternative but to conclude that unless I reverted in some way the enterprise was in peril of being inharmoniously conducted. “Mr. Ho,” said the maiden, after contemplating her inward thoughts for a moment, “you are a foreigner, and you cannot be expected to know by instinct what may and what may not be openly expressed in this country. Therefore, although the obligation is not alluring, I think it kinder to tell you that the matters which formed the subject of your last words are never to be referred to.” At this rebuke I again bowed persistently, for it did not appear reasonable to me that I could in any other way declare myself without violating the imposed command. “Not only are they never openly referred to,” continued the maiden, who in spite of the declared no allurement of the subject did not seem disposed to abandon it at once, “but among the most select they are, by unspoken agreement, regarded as ‘having no actual existence,’ as you yourself would say.” “Yet,” protested this person, somewhat puzzled, “to one who has witnessed the highly-achieved attitudes of those within your Halls of Harmony, and in an unyielding search for knowledge has addressed himself even to the advertisement pages of the ladies’ papers--” The maiden waved her hand magnanimously. “In your land, as you have told me, there are many things, not really existing, which for politeness you assume to be. In a like but converse manner this is to be so regarded.” I thanked her voluminously. “The etiquette of this country is as involved as the spoken tongue,” I said, “for both are composed chiefly of exceptions to a given rule. It was formerly impressed upon this person, as a guiding principle, that that which is unseen is not to be discussed; yet it is not held in disrepute to allude to so intimate and secluded an organ as the heart, for no further removed than yesterday he heard the deservedly popular sea-lieutenant in the act of declaring to you, upon his knees, that you were utterly devoid of such a possession.” At this inoffensively-conveyed suggestion, the fire opposite had all the appearance of suddenly reflecting itself into the maiden’s face with a most engaging concentration, while at the same time she stamped her foot in ill-concealed rage. “You’ve been listening at the door!” she cried impetuously, “and I shall never forgive you.”