"They're very clean niggers," evaded John, "And they don't want you; it's Cyprian."
Now Cyprian did not suffer gladly these invasions of his premises by the lame, the halt and the blind.
He had more than once given Ferlie to understand that, in his opinion, charity to the guileless Burman should begin anywhere but at home. Therefore, it struck her that the couple announced by John would, in all likelihood, be connected with the labourers in the mines. Perhaps a dismissed washer whose wife and child had come to effect his reconciliation with Authority.
She found Hla Byu shrinking in the shadow of the riotous creepers, and smiled upon her.
Then turned particular attention to John's "nice little nigger." The first glimpse showed her that he was remarkably fair even for a young high-class Burman child, but after a closer inspection a bewildered and then an inscrutable expression came over her face. She looked from the child back to the tear-stained and apologetic mother.
Ferlie did not yet know much Burmese.
"Who are you?" she inquired haltingly.
The woman replied in clipped English.
"I come to see the Thakin."
The child screwed up his eyes in a way wholly familiar. They were exceeding blue: Cyprian's eyes in a small cream-coloured face.