The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. Charley Pevenill was our host. 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. One cannot trust any man at all. ’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone.
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