Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. 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 is too late for visitors,” she remarked. ‘What do we do now?’ Gerald took a pace towards the girl. ‘The cat’s foot, Hilary. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice.
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