A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. Only a son’s another story. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. Don’t try to shield anybody or hide anything. His eyes were closed. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. Her eyes followed him. He went on. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. ’ She tries every way of earning a living and fails. " Spurlock lowered his voice.
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