No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

110
a jealous possessivcness about everything in his house
down to the last cushion thread, and he glared at
me, seemingly quite unembarrassed by this attitude.
When I think of it, Horiki's acquaintanceship with
me had cost him nothing.
Horiki's aged mother brought in a tray with two
dishes of jelly.
"What have we here?" Horiki asked his mother
tenderly, in the tones of the truly dutiful son, continuing
in language so polite it sounded quite unnatural.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Have you made jelly? That's
terrific. You shouldn't have bothered. I was just going
out on some business. But it would be wicked not to
eat your wonderful jelly after you've gone to all the
trouble. Thank you so much." Then, turning in my
direction, "How about one for you? Mother made it
specially. Ahh . . . this is delicious. Really terrific."
He ate with a gusto, almost a rapture, which
did not seem to be altogether play acting. I also
spooned my bowl of jelly. It tasted watery* and
when I came to the piece of fruit at the bottom, it was
not fruit after all, but a substance I could not identify.
I by no means despised their poverty. (At the time I
didn't think that the jelly tasted bad, and I was really
grateful for the old woman's kindness. It is true that
I dread poverty, but I do not believe I ever have
despised it.) The jelly and the way Horiki rejoiced