” Ramage looked at her, and then fell into deep reflection as the waiter came to paragraph their talk again. I could not dream of loving you. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. ‘Merely making a useful contact. 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. "What's the matter?" he cried.
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