Chapter XXVI
In mid-November Hung Long Tom and Scobee returned from their Oriental pilgrimage. In part their quest had been successful for even though Scobee had not succeeded in getting back his sight, he had found a certain inner vision which had brought him some degree at least of rest He had listened to the maudlin, discordant, jangling, enthralling, dreamy voice of China. It had been new music, unlike anything he had ever heard. He had been listening to the heart beat of a turbulent nation, a nation in ferment, a nation in transition. Like Scobee, China was striving to get back her sight once more. For thousands of years she had suffered and waited. Her patience was colossal.
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