’ The girl shook her head violently, setting the feathers on her hat bobbing. "Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. 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. Why? Because he knew that when these two young people left, the island would become intolerable. Surely he was imagining this picture. We’ve done nothing to deserve it. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London.
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