If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. He, a Chinaman, troubling himself over Occidental ideas! With his hands in his sleeves, he proceeded on his way. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. They found out Cris had some sort of criminal past, more child abuse stuff of course. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression.
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