Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. “You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. But though the breach was large enough to admit him below, he could not squeeze his bulky person through the aperture into the Red Room. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. And, yet, I don't know. ‘You can if you like.
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