168
MY JAPANESE WIFE.
ters, her eyes still but half unfastened from an interrupted siesta.
She comes forward to where I am kneeling beside Mousmé.
Unlike women of her class in England, Oka’s wife is laconic.
“Fever,” she says, on catching sight of Mousmé’s face. “Send for the doctor very quick!” She is evidently waiting for me to give my assent to her suggestion, so I nod my head, and she goes away softly across the room.
A few minutes later I hear one of her numerous progeny go away down the path at a run, and I know the doctor has been sent for.
Mousmé remains unconscious all the time that we are getting her partially undressed and on to the mattress.
Am I to lose her?
The bare thought drives the blood away from my heart. I know what Kotmasu
