You'd better lose no time. For the first time it occurred to Ah Cum that the young man might not be quite conscious of his surroundings, that he might be moving in that comatose state which is the aftermath of a long debauch. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Now the sense of beauty was spreading to a multitude of hitherto unsuspected aspects of the world about her. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. It was dated from the House of Commons on the previous day. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her.
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