‘I’ll handle her better alone. There was little fighting spirit here. He does not look the criminal. She expanded that. 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. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. The doctor said you wrote. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor.
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