It is like some accident. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. He has had brain fever since, and, as you say, I am more like what you were then than you yourself are now. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. Or else I would have finished him. He had been hard since they had taken their clothes off. But I see now. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. You are just necessary to life for me.
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