“At your own pleasure?”
“Yes.”
“The idea! Don’t you make a fool of me, because you think I am only a woman.”
“Why, now I say all this, because you are a woman.”
“Eh? Show me, then, Sensei, how you can make your face look in all sorts of ways.”
“You have seen enough of me of being made to look in all sorts of ways day after day.”
Nami-san said no more, but turned the other way. The embankments had disappeared, the river-sides being now almost level with the surface of the stream. The rice growing low-lands on either side, which had not yet been ploughed, had turned into a sea of rouge, with the wild red milk-vetch in full bloom. The pink sea stretched limitlessly till it was swallowed up in the distant haze. The eyes that followed up the haze, saw a high peak, half way up which, a soft, dreamy cloud of Spring was issuing.
“That is the mountain the rear of which you scaled in coming up to Nakoi, Sensei,” said Nami-san, as her fair hand pointed toward the mountain that towered into the sky like a vision of Spring.
“Is the ‘Hobgoblin Cliff’ about there?”
“You see that purple spot under that deep green?”