She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. She put her hand in his to be squeezed. Out of sight of that tell-tale window, the two officers darted across the grounds, speedily gaining the lee of the mansion walls. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. He had made it even easier by walking up the steps instead of taking the elevator. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. "Open the door, I say, or I'll burst it open. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. Now she was to be married to him and it horrified her.
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