But the girl stood outside the circle of Ah Cum's knowledge—rather profound—of human impulses. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. There it is. There was something markedly and deliberately liberal-minded in his manner in all their encounters. Acne sprayed her cheeks in a fine red spatter where it intermingled with brown freckles. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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