No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

112
The woman was a tall, thin person. She declined
the cushion and sat demurely in a corner by the door.
I listened absent-mindedly to their conversation.
The woman, evidently an employee of a magazine
publisher, had commissioned an illustration from
Horiki, and had come now to collect it.
"We're in a terrible hurry," she explained.
"It's ready. It's been ready for some time. Here
you are."
A messenger arrived with a telegram.
As Horiki read it I could see the good spirits on
his face turn ugly. "Damn it, what have you been up
to?"
The telegram was from Flatfish.
"You go back at once. I ought to take you there
myself, I suppose, but I haven't got the time now.
Imagine—a runaway, and looking so smug!"
The woman asked, "Where do you live?"
"In Okubo," I answered without thinking.
"That's quite near my office."
She was born in Koshu and was twenty-eight.
She lived in an apartment in Kocnji with her fiveyear-old
girl. She told me that her husband had died
three years before.
"You look like someone who's had an unhappy
childhood. You're so sensitive—more's the pity for
you."