It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her.
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