‘But a spy I am not. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. "I'll have to set you right on that, too. It filled her with indefinable fear. 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. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. Predictably, Charvill turned on him.
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