Sachiko had been careful, since the attack of jaundice, to watch the color of her eyes. A year had passed. Again the Hirado lilies were beginning to look dirty and ragged. The reed awning was up for the summer, and the birch chairs had been set out on the terrace. It came to Sachiko, looking looking out the garden one afternoon, that exactly the year before, Teinosuke had noticed the tinge of yellow in her eyes. As he had done then, she went down into the garden and began picking off the faded blossoms. She knew how he hated them, and she meant to have a garden clean and neat for him-he would be home in an hour or so. When she had been at work for perhaps a half hour, she heard someone come up behind her.

"This gentleman says he would like to see you." O-haru, a strangely solemn expression on her face, handed Sachiko a calling card.

It was Okubata's. When he called that once-was it two years before?-he had not been encouraged to call again, and they had avoided mentioning his name before the maids, and yet Sachiko was sure, from her studied composure, that O-haru knew of the newspaper incident, and had been adroit enough to associate Okubata with Taeko.

"Show him into the parlor. I will be just a minute."

Sachiko washed her hands, sticky from the flowers, and after a trip upstairs to see that she was presentable, went to receive her caller.