“I trust so.”

“He could only say as much.”

“Why?”

“I will tell you sometime; I must go now—Nehachibana is waiting for me. See her—she is actually coming toward us.”

“Why, Nehachibana,” continued he, speaking to his wife, “you really look a trifle jealous. How now, my beauty treasure?”

“Oh, no; she’s not jealous,” said Takara, quickly divining the situation; “only men have the right to be jealous, women the privilege.”

“Oh, Takara! How you do talk!” said Nehachibana, flushed and gladdened. “I should lose my tongue were I to scold like that. I know I should. No man would have the patience with me, much less would my husband.”

“Nehachibana is right,” said Tetsutaisho, consolingly. “A man regards, and a husband disregards. And why not? Come, my little wife, let us be off and away. There be times when even virtue has not its reward.”

Takara gracefully yielded to the unpleasant interruption, and for a week or more no further intercourse was had with Tetsutaisho. He became suddenly so enrapt with Nehachibana that for the time being he forgot all about Takara and the innocent flush which had come to her cheeks in speaking of marriage and its attendant influences. It was not so with Takara. She remembered well his words and how he brightened with interest at her every whim and fancy; then she thought of how happy Nehachibana must be.

“I am not jealous,” said she to herself, time and time again. “It is only Nehachibana. I do not know such a thing; only other women are jealous. I wonder why? Nor do I envy anybody. I only wish Shibusawa were like Tetsutaisho. How I would love him—love him, oh, love him!”