‘Why did you kiss me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted. All his dreams shattered in an instant. Ah Cum was more or less familiar with alcoholic types. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. ‘No! Let me alone!’ ‘It is not safe!’ ‘That is entirely my affair, and not your affair in the least,’ she told him haughtily. ‘They cannot help it.
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