It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. "Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office.
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