She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. That she had not bought one piece of linen subtly established in Ah Cum's mind the fact that she had no home, that the instinct was not there, or she would have made some purchase against the future. “Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. What his head conceived his hand executed. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her.
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