The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

“Day after tomorrow at three? I don’t know whether I
can make it or not. No, you have to believe me, I really
don’t. Suppose we say you’ll be there if you feel like
it.”
“We’ll have to get a new air-conditioner next year.”
“It’s a real problem. Can’t we at least cut down on
entertainment expenses next year?”
“They say you can have as much tobacco and liquor
as you want when you’re twenty.”
“Thank you. It’s very kind of you. Next Tuesday
evening at six.”
“That’s just the point. That’s the way he is. Just wait
two or three days and he’ll be around with a sheepish
look on his face to apologize.”
“Good-bye. See you tomorrow.”
Foxes all, walking the path of foxes. The hunter had
only to wait in the thicket.
It seemed to Honda that he was a fox with the eyes
of a hunter, walking the path of the foxes even though
he knew that he would be caught.
Summer and ripeness were approaching.
It was mid-July when Honda finally stirred himself to
make an appointment at the Cancer Research
Institute.
On the day before the appointment he had one of
his rare looks at television. It was a sunny afternoon,