To Ah Cum, who was watching her covertly, the smile was like a bit of unexpected sunshine. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. Small, but eminently serviceable. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples.
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