She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. She let Jack go as he passed through the opening. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. Politely Ah Cum stooped and recovered the photograph.
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