The sky was cloudless, effulgent blue. Martin proceeded to grab Lucy by the shoulders and air-kiss both of her cheeks teasingly. 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. Rank ingratitude, I call it.
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