A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Suddenly Ah Cum laughed aloud. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. “Goodnight. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. Except for a few early ebullitions of passion, natural to a warm and romantic disposition, and leaving no harmful after-effects—ebullitions that by the standards of the higher truth I feel no one can justly cast a stone at, and of which I for one am by no means ashamed—I come to you a pure and unencumbered man.
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