“I know. That is, I see all that more clearly now. I was going to speak of it—it's one of the things, but first.... Mr. Doane, will you write to me? Once in a while? I mean, will you—could you find time to answer if I write to you? You see, it isn't going to be easy, over there. I've got to go clean outside my own crowd. And outside my family. They won't one of them understand what I'm up to. Not one. And—when you come right down to it, I suppose it's a question whether the thing licks me or not. But”—his shoulders squared; he looked directly into that kind, deeply shadowed face—“I don't believe it will lick me!”
“No,” said Doane, “it won't lick you.”
“I shall never be able to shake China off now. It's got me. And I don't know a thing about it yet. Of course I shall be reading and studying it up.”
“I'll send you a book once in a while.”
“And I know I'm coming back out here someday. But it won't be as my father wants me to come. You see, I'll have money.”
“A great responsibility, Rocky.”
“I know. I'm beginning to see that. But—I know all this must sound pretty young to you!—but I'm afraid I shall be leaning on you sometimes—”
“Write to me at those times.”
“All right. I will.”
“There is an amazing health in the American people.”