‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. 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. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden.
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