The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. Why don't you try to find out how the every-day Chinese lives, how he treats his family, what his normal habits are, his hopes, his ambitions? Why don't you come to China as I went to America—with an open mind?" "You're on," said O'Higgins, briskly. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged.
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