“Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir,” Brendon ordered. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. 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. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. Sometimes when adrenaline rushes through a body. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station.
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