pleased her. She felt that her own husband had far better manners than any of the other people she saw. He dressed very neatly, and always looked respectable, and everything about him seemed to give out a fresh and fragrant atmosphere of good health and breeding. When she was with him on these excursions she had the feeling of one who is basking in the sunshine of an early spring morning. His hat, the cut of his coat, his polished brown shoes, in fact everything about him, easily distinguished him from the vulgar people she met with.
One day during the summer holidays, when they were on a trip to Maiko Beach, she felt especially proud of her husband. Many of the other members of his office staff happened to be there, and she could not help contrasting him with them all. He was so diferent, so much more refined. But she was rather surprised to notice the intimacy with which he treated those unrefined people.
Before long, Nobu-ko again began to think about the literary career which she had intended to follow before her marriage. She made up her mind to start it anew by writing regularly for one or two hours each day, and only when her husband was at his office. But he soon got to know how she was occupying her time, and one day he said to her with gentle smile:
“You are going to become an authoress at last, aren’t you?”
But somehow or other, whenever she sat down to write, her pen would not run freely at all, and often
