" "By Jack Sheppard!" exclaimed the thief-taker. She pocketed the sum total of his ready cash, about fortyeight dollars. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. . In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic.
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