And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. " "Didn't the natives have a name for you?" She blushed. 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. But I sent him the longest way about. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination.
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