" So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. He put his free arm around her and held the censer ready; and as Ruth snuggled her cheek against his sleeve, they were, so far as intent, in each other's arms. ‘Oh, peste. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice.
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