When Sheila was in a good mood, one almost enjoyed her. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. "What is she saying to me?" Ah Cum shrugged. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful.
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