had lost her courage, she was distressed because of Ah Sui and was worried only about cooking. The strange thing was that she had not grown thin.
The room began to get cold and the half-dead coal finally burned itself out. It was closing time, time for me to go back to Chi-chao Hutung and face Tzu-chun's chilliness. There had been occasional spells of warmth, which only added to my distress. I remember that one evening her eyes suddenly sparkled with childlike innocence as she talked about the days at the Guild. I detected, however, a note of fear and anxiety in her cheerfulness and I realized that I had become indifferent to her indifference and this, in turn, had aroused in her fear and uncertainty. I tried to smile and to give her some measure of comfort. But no sooner did the smile appear on my face and the comforting words come out of my mouth than they began to seem hollow and meaningless, a meaninglessness which reëhoed in my ears with insufferable mockery.
Tzu-chun appeared to sense it. She lost her phlegmatic calm and tried to conceal, not always with success, her fear and uncertainty. She became more considerate of me.
I wanted to tell her the truth but did not have the courage. I was several times on the point of speaking to her, but a glance at her childlike eyes would shake my determination and force me to assume a forced smile, which immediately mocked at me and caused me to lose my calm.
Now she again commenced to review the past, devising new tests and forcing me to give her reassuring but false answers. These false answers might have given her some comfort and reassurance, but they choked my heart and oppressed me with their falsity. It is true that it takes a great deal of courage to speak the truth; one who does not have this courage but is always ready to compromise with false-
