MY JAPANESE WIFE.
217
fall on top of us, past Hoyaki, out into the ocean beyond.
Mousmé, who stands by my side all the time, her hand clutching my arm, gives a shuddering little sob.
Who can blame her?
With every throb of the engines, every heave of the huge vessel to the ocean swell, we are carried farther and farther into the—for her—unknown.
And it is only the unknown which is terrible.
