"Why, hello, Ah Cum! What's the trouble?" Ah Cum took his hands from his sleeves. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. The Bitchster strikes again. You cannot tell whether you know him or not until you have seen him. Not even for Ruth could he do such a beastly thing.
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