Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. " The stranger was for a moment lost in reflection. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. E.
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