He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. Drink for him had a queer phase. ‘So are you. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. How I could have been such a fool I’ll never know. This way, Sir Rowland. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. And when I ask you why it is you do so, you have no answer. 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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