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. No doubt they've all been rejected; but he couldn't throw them overboard. ’ ‘Yes, but they did do so. Let alone a girl. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. My name is Wild— Jonathan Wild.
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