That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. "But she is saying something to me! What is it?" The hotel manager, who spoke Cantonese with facility, interpreted. ” The stranger came over to them smiling.
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