Whenever I spoke of painting, that undrunk glass of absinthe flickered before my eyes. I was agonized by the frustrating thought: if
only I could show them those paintings they would believe in my artistic talents. "Do you really? You're adorable when you joke that way with a serious face." But it was no joke. It was true. I wished I could have shown her those pictures. I felt an empty chagrin which suddenly gave way to resignation. I added, "Cartoons, I mean. I'm sure I'm better than Horiki at cartoons if nothing else." These clownish words of deceit were taken more seriously than the truth. "Yes, that's so. I've really been struck by those cartoons you're always drawing for Shigeko. I've burst out laughing over them myself. How would you like to draw for our magazine? I can easily ask the editor." Her company published a monthly magazine, not an especially notable one, for children. "Most women have only to lay eyes on you to want to be doing something for you so badly they can't stand it . . . You're always so timid and yet you're funny . . . Sometimes you get terribly lonesome and depressed, but that only makes a woman's heart itch all the more for you." Shizuko flattered me with these and other comments which, with the special repulsive quality of the kept man, I calmly accepted. Whenever I thought of my situation I sank all the deeper in my depression, and I lost all my energy. It kept preying on my mind that I needed money more than a woman, that anyway I wanted to escape from Shizuko and make my own living. I made plans of every sort, but my struggles only
