Although he had lived in America for over thirty years, he still considered the foreigners a mad race, who should be mistrusted on sight and who were moved by impulses which were partly savage, partly amusing, but altogether incredible. But he kept his seat and his sang-froid when he recognized the features of his visitor. For he had done his laundry for five years, had received payment promptly every Thursday morning, and had exchanged daily and very punctilious greeting with him.
So he bade him a pleasant "good evening."
But the next moment he wished that he had followed the original promptings of his instinct.
For the Professor lifted him bodily out of his chair, threw his arms about his shoulders, drew him to his bosom, and apostrophized him as "warrior" and "Jemchug" and "brother-in-arms."
The Chinese disengaged himself from the other's embrace.
"Hey? You dlunk?" he queried dispassionately.
The Professor did not reply. He embraced the Chinaman again, and so once more the latter repeated his words.
Only this time they were less a question than the statement of a calm, prosaic fact.
