A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with her. “If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. “Who can tell?” she said. 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. “Thanks, I’m not very fond of coffee,” Anna answered, “and I hate music. ” “It was an inspiration—your speaking to him?” “I felt impudent. Rage flooded her at his intent, but she controlled it.
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