You’re tired, of course. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. His French is better than mine, so he knew exactly what he was handling. It is better to face the truth. 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.
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