I came to address the widow as Okusan, so from here on I'll refer to her thus. Okusan regarded me as quiet and mild-mannered. She also praised the diligence with which I applied myself to my studies. All the same while, she never once mentioned my anxious eyes or shiftiness of manner. I don't know if this was restraint or simply failure to take notice, but at any rate it seemed not to concern her. Not only that, but on one occasion, with a hint of admiration in her voice, she even declared me largehearted. Honest as I am, I blushed a bit and refuted her words. She proceeded to explain, in all seriousness, how I was unaware of my own virtues. Initially she had not intended to take in a student such as myself. When she'd asked the neighbors for an introduction, her intention had been to let out a room to a worker from a government office or some such place. The image she'd held in her mind was a man of limited means, a man with no other option but to dwell as a boarder. When she praised me as largehearted, she was comparing me to this boarder of her own imagining. Compared to this man living hand to mouth, at least where money was concerned, I may have been largehearted. Money and temperament, however, are two different things, the one having no connection to the other. Okusan, as women are wont to do, was intent on extending a single notion to apply to my entirety.