" "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. This time she was indeed beaten.
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