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. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. “Oh, Michelle, I’m such a miserable fool. Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible. ” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall.
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