Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. He saw, without any particular regret, that this year he would have to forego the junket; but there would be ample compensation in the study of these queer youngsters. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. I didn’t believe him and I said so. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. “You are coming right out into life—facing it all.
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