As he was leaving the hotel, Ah Cum stepped up to his side. Yet she held her tongue. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. Mr. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. But he reckoned without his host. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. You have betrayed me. “I don’t think she will,” she said. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone.
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