"I am Owen Wood, at your service. The Leads. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. " "What happened?" Ah Cum recounted the story of the sing-song girl. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. I suppose you have come to see your granddaughter. So completely! The oddest fitness! What is it made of? Texture of skin and texture of mind? Complexion and voice. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. She owed the nun a great deal, including her command of English, for no one else thought to ensure she could speak her mother tongue.
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