’ ‘Yes,’ agreed Lucilla excitedly, ‘and she has been telling us how much of a friend she was to your mother. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. 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 believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. But you have not finished surely. \" She looked at Mike.
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