So am I.For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient.

It drives one mad at times.

Superstition--you knock into it whichever way you turn.

The Oriental accepts my medicines kowtowing, and when my back is turned, chucks the stuff out of the window and burns joss-sticks.

I hate this part of the world." "So do I," replied Ruth.
"You have lived over here ?"--astonished.
"I was born in the South Seas and I am on my way to America, to an aunt." "Well, it's mighty fine of you to break your journey in this fashion--for someone you don't know, a passer-by." He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers.