She is a woman chosen in youth for her beauty and her intelligence. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. Why should some things and not others open the deeps?” “Well, that might, after all, be an outcome of selection—like the preference for blue flowers, which are not nearly so bright as yellow, of some insects. 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 doesn’t seem to matter. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line.
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