" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. ‘That is a matter for the lawyers. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. “You’re a biologist, aren’t you?” He began to talk of his own impressions of biology as a commonplace magazine reader who had to get what he could from the monthly reviews, and was glad to meet with any information from nearer the fountainhead. Her sister had told him that it was true. She must kill this man, or kill herself.
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