"Would you marry the potato baron?" he demanded bluntly.

"Certainly not!" she answered.

"He has gobs of money. Is that not a point worthy of consideration?"

"Not with me. It never could be."

"Perhaps you have gobs of money also."

"If I were a scrubwoman, and starving, I wouldn't consider a proposal
of marriage from that Jap sufficiently long to reject it."

"Then you have answered your own question," he reminded her
triumphantly. "The purity of our race--aye, the purity of the Japanese
race--forbids intermarriage; hence we are confronted with the
intolerable prospect of sharing our wonderful state with an alien race
that must forever remain, alien--in thought, language, morals,
religion, patriotism, and standards of living. They will dominate us,
because they are a dominant people; they will shoulder us aside,
control us, dictate to us, and we shall disappear from this beautiful
land as surely and as swiftly as did the Mission Indian. While the
South has its negro problem--and a sorry problem it is--we Californians
have had an infinitely more dangerous problem thrust upon us. We've
got to shake them off. We've got to!"

"I'll speak to my father. I do not think he understands--that he fully
realizes--"

"Ah! Thank you so much. Your father is rich, is he not?"