‘I have only borrowed it. Jonathan had to feel his way. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. Supposing you take them and read them? You might be able to tell me why I felt disappointed. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. 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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