" He had now gained the high road. There was something fatalistic about the letter H. A remittance man. Larry Beck did his best to the flares of her temper from rising. 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. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty.
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