"I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. ‘You think I am like that Valade? No, a thousand times. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. So there is no escape. Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. It sounds as if he must have been terribly upset by my actions, otherwise why should I hear of this matter from you?\" Michelle shrugged. About noon, next day, he was able to move; and the gale having abated, he set out homewards with his little charge.
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