The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. 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. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber.
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