" "What's your name?" Ah Cum got out his black-bordered card and offered it. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. ‘But it is entirely natural that I choose my own country. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. “I am sure that you are. Nor can we. You DO use vile language!” “Forget about it like this.
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