Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. . 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. I meant mischief. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland. He dropped the key on the counterpane. “The numbers are a little difficult to see in the archway. Spurlock bent his head to the rail.
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