” “And you knew, of course, that we were old friends?” “Indeed!” “Lady Ferringhall, I love your sister. 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. You don't know what you have got; I do. She addresses you as the Flower of the Lotus, as the Resplendent Moonbeam.
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