But I can easily bring in a sing-song girl to play for you. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. 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. I wouldn't accept my life from him. co. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone.
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