. CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. Least of all myself. EPOCH THE SECOND. 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. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. “Thanks to you. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. They do not come for me, to find me and bring me home. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth.
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