‘Quite wrong, monsieur. 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. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. "I can't see him.
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