She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. 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 like the mystical way,” she said. But I proved it to them! Oh yeah, I told John, but I don’t think he believes me either. I saw them both. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily.
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