"That, regrettably, was the money I lost," explained Yojirō. The look on his face was indeed of sincere regret.
When asked whereabouts he might have dropped it, he replied that he hadn't dropped it anywhere. He'd lost it all at the horse track betting. This left Sanshirō flabbergasted. In the face of such folly, he found himself speechless. And Yojirō himself seemed crestfallen. One could hardly believe this was the real Yojirō, always brimming with boundless energy. The contrast was too profound. Sanshirō was struck by a mixture of both pity and incredulity. All he could do was laugh. Then Yojirō laughed too.
"Well anyway, I guess I'll manage somehow."
"The professor doesn't know yet?"
"What about Nonomiya?"
"He doesn't know either, of course."
"When did you take charge of the money?"
"The first of the month, so it's exactly two weeks now."
"When did you go to the horse track?"
"The day after getting the money."
"From that day to today you've let this fester?"
"I've done what I can, but I don't have the money. Worst case, it'll have to wait until the end of the month."
"You think you'll have it by the end of the month?"
"I should get enough from the Literary Review folks."
Sanshirō rose and opened his desk drawer. He took out the letter that had arrived from his mother the day before and looked inside. "This will cover it. My remittance from home came early this month."
Yojirō was instantly reenergized. "Thank you so kindly, oh dearest of friends," his voice was vigorous as he artfully mimicked a professional storyteller.
It was past ten. The two of them braved the rain to venture onto Oiwake's main thoroughfare and entered the soba shop on the corner. This was how Sanshirō learned to drink saké there. The two of them drank that night in high spirits. Yojirō took care of the check. He was never one to let others treat.