It has been over a year since I last saw Lu, yet today whenever I pick up a paper and read of trouble in India, Palestine, or China _ especially China - I see again before me that homely yellow face with its broad, friendly grin, and the deep network of tiny, delicate wrinkles crinkling about the calm, slanted, brown eyes which saw so much and told so little. I can see the mild laughter, and maybe a trace of pity, slipping forth from Lu's usually inscrutable eyes, and I can hear again the soft, even tones of his voice as he spoke the few words which I shall remember the rest of my life-remember and wonder about.
""Never The Twain Shall Meet","
Manuscripts: Vol. 14
, Article 14.
Retrieved from: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol14/iss3/14