The gentleman smell is provocative.
My uncle?
I can only say that he is more desirable than an old woman. Old woman is sad as a dry persimmon.
I stole into his room.
God will overlook my petty crime—how lovely to be scratched by guilt!—in consideration of the fact that a Jap girl never profanes.
I turned his pillow. Pillow is a fascination for me ever since I have read of a poet who hid his diary under it.
Look at the book, “A Random Note!”
He was working to beat me with his journal, I derided.
I sat on his bed, opening it.
“How original!” I exclaimed.