He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. I met a Hindu a few weeks ago who was a Harvard man. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. " "Well said, Jack," cried Figg. She really must not go to that affair.
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