About noon the boss returned from his marketing. As soon as I caught sight of him I burst out with the same lies I had told the madam. He looked amazed. “Is that a fact? All the same, Mrs. Otani, you can’t be sure of money until you’ve got it in your hands.” He spoke in a surprisingly calm, almost explanatory tone.

“But it’s really true. Please have confidence in me and wait just this one day before you make it public. In the meantime I’ll help in the restaurant.”

“If the money is returned, that’s all I ask,” the boss said, almost to himself. “There are five or six days left to the end of the year, aren’t there?”

“Yes and so, you see, I mean—oh, some customers have come. Welcome!” I smiled at the three customers—they looked like workmen—who had entered the shop, and whispered to the madam, “Please lend me an apron.”

One of the customers called out, “Say, you’ve hired a beauty. She’s terrific.”

“Don’t lead her astray,” the boss said, in a tone which wasn’t altogether joking. “She cost a lot of money.”

“A million dollar thoroughbred?” another customer coarsely joked.

“They say that even in thoroughbreds the female costs only half price,” I answered in the same coarse way, while putting the sake on to warm.

“Don’t be modest! From now on in Japan there’s equality of the sexes, even for horses and dogs,” the youngest customer roared. “Sweetheart, I’ve fallen in love. It’s love at first sight. But is that your kid over there?”

“No,” said the madam, carrying the boy in her arms from the back room. “We got this child from our relatives. At last we have an heir.”

“What’ll you leave him beside your money?” a customer teased.

The boss with a dark expression muttered, “A love affair and debts.” Then, changing his tone, “What’ll you have? How about a mixed grill?”

It was Christmas Eve. That must be why there was such a steady stream of customers. I had scarcely eaten a thing since morning, but I was so upset that I refused even when the madam urged me to have a bite. I just went on flitting around the restaurant lightly as a ballerina. Maybe it is just conceit, but the shop seemed exceptionally lively that night, and there were quite a few customers who wanted to know my name or tried to shake my hand.

But I didn’t have the slightest idea how it would all end. I went on smiling and answering the customers’ dirty jokes with even dirtier jokes in the same vein, slipping from customer to customer, pouring the drinks. Before long I got to thinking that I would just as soon my body melted and flowed away like ice cream.

It seems as if miracles sometimes do happen even in this world. A little after nine a man entered, wearing a tricornered paper Christmas hat and a black mask which covered the upper part of his face. He was followed by an attractive woman of slender build who looked thirty-four or thirty-five. The man sat on a chair in the comer with his back to me, but as soon as he came in I knew who it was. It was my thief of a husband.