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Slowly and deliberately, Tanaka wiped first the knife and then his hands on the clothes of his victim. Then he felt his mouth and throat. "Sa! Shimatta! He turned towards the garden side, threw open the shoji and the amado. He ran across the snow-covered lawn; and from beyond the unearthly silence which followed his departure, come the distant sound of a splash in the river.
The wooden shutters before my little room in the hotel are pushed away; and the morning sun immediately paints upon my shoji, across squares of gold light, the perfect sharp shadow of a little peach-tree. No mortal artist not even a Japanese could surpass that silhouette!
We'll rent one room upstairs of the house, and keep peeping through a loophole we could make in the shoji." "Will he come when we keep peeping at him?" "He may. We will have to do it more than one night. Must expect to keep it up for at least two weeks." "Say, that would make one pretty well tired, I tell you.
Big lamp by Merrit San's desk no never burn so bright for me. It make funny little crooked shadow of my body on shoji. Merrit San's body always make big and strong black picture. I saw it last time big moon look over mountain. I took walk in garden and I thinking this time next moon Merrit San will not be here.
The hills had scarcely ceased the echo of the shrieking engine, it seemed to me, when I heard the tap of the gong at the entrance. Kobu and his companion were ahead of me. The brilliant light of a sunny afternoon softened as it sifted through the paper shoji, suffusing room and occupants in a tender glow. "A thief!" he cried. "Somebody's going to get hurt in a minute. He's my son.
This was the only ornament in the room. Geoffrey and his wife sat down or sprawled on square silk cushions called zabuton. Then the shoji were thrown open; and they looked down upon Nagasaki. It was a scene of sheer enchantment. The tea-house was perched on a cliff which overhung the city. The light pavilion seemed like the car of some pullman aeroplane hovering over the bay.
The two girls strolled along the ridge of the hill as far as the five-storied pagoda. They passed the tea-house, so famous for its plum-blossoms in early March. It was brightly lighted. The paper rectangles of the shoji were aglow like an illuminated honeycomb. The wooden walls resounded with the jangle of the samisen, the high screaming geisha voices, and the rough laughter of the guests.
That little child reach out and find hand of foreign doll. He hold very tight, and give it look of love. Such heaven light come on his face! I suspend my breath and listen to his low speech which come in broken pieces: "You are my Tomidachi. Do not go; I soon be well I come play in your garden. Dragon-flies cradle star Ah, Little God you grow so big!" Something made me open shoji quick.
Brushes, water vessels, and paints were placed in readiness, with such neatness and precision that old Kano's heart would have laughed in pleasure. That night the shoji and amado were not closed. Tatsu did not sleep. It was a night of consecration. He walked up and down, sometimes in the narrow room, sometimes in the garden. Often he prayed.
The Barringtons removed their boots and followed one of these ladies down a gleaming corridor with another miniature garden in an enclosed courtyard on one side, and paper shoji and peeping faces on the other, out across a further garden by a kind of oriental Bridge of Sighs to a small separate pavilion, which floated on a lake of green shrubs and pure air, as though moored by the wooden gangway to the main block of the building.
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