Whence had she come: whither was she bound? A temporary congestion in the street held up the caravan for a spell; and Ah Cum looked backward to note if any of the party had become separated. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably.
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