CHAPTER V.
I have only seen Kotmasu once since our marriage, now five days ago; and then it was quite by accident, down near the quay, where I had gone to discover whether my quarterly parcel of magazines and books had arrived, which Lou with commendable regularity despatches “to that brother of mine who is out in Japan, living at one of those towns with a heathenish and unpronounceable name.”
Kotmasu seemed somewhat surprised to see me.
“Where is Madame?” he asks with a smile, as though—as no doubt he did—he half suspected she had returned to her mother already.
I must have shown that I read the undercurrent of suggestion somewhat plainly. “At home,” I answered. “You wouldn’t surely expect me to bring her out at this part of the day, in all this heat, and down here, too!”
“No! no! Of course not,” he hastened to reply.
I was somewhat mollified by his evident anxiety to put matters straight again between us. He can scarcely, I thought, be expected to have the same faith in my experiment as I have. To him my marriage, until it has existed for some time, can, I realize, only appear in the light of a temporary arrangement.
“Why do you not come up as you used?” I inquire in a friendly tone.
“It is your—what you call it?—something to do with the bees and the moon. I did not care to intrude,” he replies deprecatingly.
“How ridiculous! We shall be always glad to see you, my good fellow,” I reply, laughing as naturally as I can.