To fight inertia on the one hand and to study this queer girl on the other. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. I am engaged to sing every evening at the ‘Unusual’ music hall. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. 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. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. “No, no,” she cried. The Jew got in first.
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