” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically. 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. Spurlock had found the typewriter, oiled and cleaned it, and began to practise on it in the night. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you.
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