The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it. “Take my advice,” he said hoarsely. 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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