. gutenberg. " "What's the matter, Ruth?" asked Spurlock, anxiously. Stanley considered. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. I will not trust you. “You must not think of me as one.
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