I thought he was in Newgate. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. He does not look the criminal. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain.
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