she expected and she was soon confessing to herself that there was
much good in Japanese life. Professor and Madame Oshima were not
talkative on general topics but the books on the shelves of the
Professor's library proved a godsend to the awakening mind of the
young woman. Indeed, after a mental diet of French and English
fiction upon which Ethel had been reared, the works on science and
humaniculture, the dreams of universal brotherhood, the epics of a
race in its conquests of disease and poverty were as meat and drink
to her eager, hungry mind.

As the war went on, the horror of it all grew upon her. She read
Howki's "America." She didn't believe it all, but she realized that
most of it was true. She wondered why her people were fighting to
keep out the Japanese. She marvelled that the Japanese who had
adopted such lofty ideals of race culture could find the heart to go
to war. She wished she might be free to go to the government
officials at Tokio and Washington to show them the folly of it all.
Surely if the American statesmen understood Japanese ideals and the
superiority of their habits and customs for the production of happy
human beings, they would never have waged war to keep them out of
the States.

* * *

"In three days we leave Japan," said Professor Oshima, as he sat
down to dinner one evening in the early part of April, 1960.

"All?" asked Komoru, the Professor's secretary.

"We four," replied Oshima, indicating those at the table, "the