The Tangerines Ryunosuke Akutagawa them with her hands In her lap lay a larg one cloudy winter evening I sat alone in bundle. Her coarse cold hands, clamped the second-class coach of the train that runs from Tokyo to Yokusuka. Japan. On the tightly over it. clutched a third-class ticket as platform outside there was not a single per- though it were her last link with life itself. son. The only sound was that of a puppy Her coarse features and her clothes, lackin in taste, didn't appeal to me. She was hining sadly from time to time. All thes things seemed to suit my mood exactly. I apparently stupid as well couldn't tell a felt tired and bored. With both hands deep second- from a third-class coach in my pockets, I didn't even feel like taking Partly because I wished to forget her presence. I began to look at the out my evening paper depressing After a while I heard the starting whistle evening paper, which I had taken out and Just then the door of my coach clattered open and a girl of about thirteen rushed in spread over my knees. Suddenly my paper was illuminated by a bright electric light At the same time the train, with a jerk. The train had just entered one of the many began to move slowly forward. I raised my tunnels on t Yokusuka line eyes and looked at the girl. who had sat The newspaper though illuminated, down opposite me merely showed the usual commonplace She was a dull-looking country girl. Her events the peace problem, the bribe cases eddings, death notices, and so on. The chapped cheeks had a slightly unpleasant ruddy glow as though she had been rubbing paper, the train. the tunnel, the girl all, I