" "What happened?" Ah Cum recounted the story of the sing-song girl. "I ought to tell you that Mr. Heaven alone knows why. She has never done a really ignoble thing that I know of— never. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. “Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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