If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. 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.
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