me that prison life might actually be pleasanter than groaning away my sleepless nights in a hellish dread of the "realities of life" as led by human beings. Even when my father and I were living in the same house, he was kept so busy receiving guests or going out that sometimes three or four days elapsed without our seeing each other. This, however, did not make his presence any the less oppressive and intimidating. I was just thinking (without as yet daring to propose it) how I would like to leave the house and find lodgings elsewhere, when I learned from our old caretaker that my father apparently intended to sell the house. Father's term of office as a member of the Diet would soon expire and—doubtless for many reasons—he seemed to have no intention of standing for election again. Perhaps (I do not pretend to understand my father's thoughts any better than those of a stranger) he had decided to build a retreat somewhere at home. He never had felt much affection for Tokyo and he must have concluded that it was pointless to maintain a house with servants just for the convenience of a mere college student like myself. At any rate, the house was sold before long and I moved to a gloomy room in an old lodging house in Hon go where I was immediately beset by financial worries.
My father had been giving me a fixed allowance for spending money each month. It would disappear in two or three days' time, but there had always been cigarettes, liquor and fruit in the house, and other things—books, stationery, and anything in the way of clothing—could be charged at shops in the neighborhood. As long as it was one of the
