me. But we did not mind this. Although it was always near dusk when I was through at the office and the ricksha man was always so slow, the hour always arrived when we would be at last together. We would first gaze upon each other in silence and then talk freely and intimately. We would be silent again as we bowed our heads in thought, thinking about nothing. Little by little I read all of her body and all her soul, and in three weeks I understood her even better than I had done before; I discovered many things about her which I thought I had understood but which I really did not. These had been the real barriers between us.
Tzu-chun became more lively every day. I bought two potted plants for her at the temple fair, but she did not care for flowers, and neglected to water them. At the end of four days they dried up in the corner—I did not have time to attend to everything. She had, however, a weakness for animals, in which she was probably influenced by the wife of the petty official. Inside of a month the family grew; four chicks strutted about the yard with more than ten belonging to the landlady. Each of the women recognized the markings of the chickens, however, and knew which were her own. There was, in addition, a black and white Pekingese, also bought at the temple fair. I think it had a name when we bought it, but Tzu-chun renamed it Ah Sui. That's the name I called it by, though I did not like it.
This is true: Love must be renewed, must be made to grow, must be creative. When I told Tzu-chun this, she nodded understandingly.
Ah, what quiet, happy nights those were!
But peace and happiness have a way of stagnating and becoming monotonous. When we were at the Provincial Guild we used to have occasional differences and misunder-
