There was a light truly of heaven in his eluding Asiatic eyes. He led her to a little temple in a grove of palm and giant fern; pointed out its mystic excellencies; talked a great deal about Shintō which she couldn’t grasp.  
“It’s like a little doll’s house!” she cried. “And so perfect! I’m sure it must have taken you a long, long time to build.” There were low mounds all about, for it was here, also, that the dead were buried.
 
Tsuda seemed too vividly moved by the ecstasy, which shone out of his eyes, to hear her little burst of amazed enthusiasm. “Some day he tell us the White Kami will come. We wait, long time. A very long time, it seem. One day”—Tsuda crept closer—“the White Kami!” He lifted his arms[119] in weird triumph. “The White Kami at last is come to live among his children!”
 
Stella seemed to grasp in a flash the significance of this. She thrust her hand, in a startled gesture, against one cheek; found it burning.
 
Tsuda’s face, as he watched her so eagerly for news of the emotions in her heart, suddenly clouded with shrewdness. “They do not tell you?” he murmured, close; she could feel his breath.
 
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