E. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. It is necessary. “Wow, congratulations, Martin. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. ’ ‘Do not hope it,’ returned Melusine, snapping uncontrollably.
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