But he reckoned without his host. It’s my choice, Lucy. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. As he anticipated, he was here comparatively screened from the fury of the wind; and when he gazed upon the roaring fall beneath him, visible through the darkness in a glistening sheet of foam, his heart overflowed with gratitude for his providential deliverance. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. When I've placed another skull and another halter beside them, I shall be contented. I’m sorry to disappoint you.
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