There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this. The militiaman at once thrust the old man between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the kitchen. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight.
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