"I called my wife to the study at once. 'There's a Western saying many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip. Even you must surely know what this means.' 'How would anyone know what that means? This English you dole out on unsuspecting listeners, knowing full well that they don't understand, is nothing more than an instrument of mockery. Fine then, I don't know what it means. If you love English so much, why didn't you marry a mission school girl? Your heart is colder than cold!' Her manacing glare disarmed me. Let me explain here that I had not used English with ill intent. My only motivation was sincere concern for my wife, and when she misconstrued my purpose, it left me dangling. The chills and the vertigo, and my haste to expound on the fleeting nature of existence, on the truth that all things must die, had conspired to confuse me, and I'd resorted to English, forgetting entirely that the wife could not understand. After this misstep, my chills intensified and the room started to spin. The wife did as I'd directed her, retiring to the bathroom, stripping to the waist, cleansing and powdering herself, and then donning her kimono. She was prepared to depart and only waiting on me. I felt myself on tenterhooks. Hoping Amaki would arrive soon, I glanced at the clock and saw it was three. Only one more hour till four. 'Shall we go soon?' My wife opened the study door and looked in. I know I shouldn't praise my own wife, but I've never thought her more beautiful that I did in that moment. The sheen of her freshly-washed skin reflected against the black crepe of her haori. Her countenance sparkled, both from without and within, from the dual effects of the soap and her expectation of Settsu Daijō's performance. I couldn't disappoint her. I was determined to go. I smoked a smoke and prepared to make the effort. Just then, Doctor Amaki appeared."