she had none of the gloominess and irritability of the proverbial old maid.
Perhaps her devotion to her father provided some comfort to her.
People who came to visit always talked to Tomiko instead of Akifusa.
She sat beside her father’s pillow.
I was startled to see how terribly thin she had become. It seemed odd to
me that I was surprised, which meant that it was natural for her to be thin—
but even so, seeing Tomiko suddenly grown so old and shriveled depressed
me. It occurred to me that the people in that house were suffering.
There was nothing for me to say once I had said the pointless words of a
sickbed visitor, so I ended up saying something I shouldn’t have said.
“There’s a rumor going around that a ghost has been appearing on the
other side of the tunnel— have you heard? I asked the driver about it on the
way here, as a matter of fact. . . .”
“Is there really? I’m always in the house—1 don’t hear about anything”
It was clear that she wanted to know more, and so—thinking all the while
that it would have been better not to mention the matter—1 summed up
what I knew.
“Well, it’s the sort of story one can hardly believe—at least not until one
actually sees the ghost. Of course, one might not believe the story even if
one did see it. There are always illusions, after all.”
“You ought to look for it tonight, Mr. Mita—find out if it really exists,”
Tomiko said. It was an odd thing for her to say.
“Oh, but you see it doesn’t appear when it’s light out.”
“The sun will have set if you stay for dinner.” “Unfortunately I’m afraid
I can’t. Besides, it seems that the woman’s ghost only rides in empty cars.”
“Well if that’s the case you have nothing to worry about, do you? My father
is saying that he’s extremely pleased you’ve come, and that he hopes you’ll
