A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. "Iss, Massa. " Many wrinkles appeared at the corners of Ah Cum's slant eyes—as if the sun hurt—but the rest of his face remained as passive as a graven Buddha's. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly.
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