Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. Ten days should see you on your feet. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. 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.
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