“I couldn’t help it. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him. And because of this hanging gold Ah Cum left many doors open to doubt. The evenings were dulcet and soft. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait.
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