At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. “We will see that he doesn’t follow you. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights.
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