He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. "You will spare the officers a labour then," rejoined Jonathan. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. "I don't know what his idea was. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories.
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