I worship you. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. 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'm tired of the life I'm leading. "Not in the least," returned Kneebone, slyly, "not in the least. C. 1.
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