Perhaps she was. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. 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. ‘He arst me to find him someone who might go with you.
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