They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. "They tell me over here that the average Chinaman is honest. But the Yale spirit!" Ah Cum laughed. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. Or else I would have finished him.
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