Stretched on a wooden settle in the crowded, dirty shop that abutted on the still dirtier street, reeking with filth and smells, he passed his time sunk in a semi-conscious stupor.
The proprietor looked upon Moulla Khan as one of the best customers he had.
For him was his smile the sweetest, to him was he most accommodating in the matter of money.
Of a day the frequenters of the place were comparatively few, but when the night crept on, Pun Lun lit up his place with many sickly oil lamps, whose light showed up the gaudy signboard with its ill-written "Toddy Shop" on it, surrounded by a curious design in Chinese, and drew the human moths round in dozens to smoke, drink, play, and talk. Indian, Burmese, all countries were represented there in that crowded, noisy, dirty place. The babel of many tongues broke on the ear afar off.
The neighbourhood was a notoriously bad one, so that the fighting and sickening sound of blows that usually ended these gatherings of convivial spirits excited no comment.
Even the deep groans from those who, wounded, lay helplessly for many hours gained no sympathy or succour of any kind.
Often, but in vain, in the hot, sulphurous nights Mah Khine had found her way there, and begged of the great coarse brute whom she called husband to return with her, but for a long time past she had ceased to plead, realising how useless it was.
And yet, strangely, with all his drunkenness and cruelty, the faithful soul refused to desert or even see him as he really was. He had been the chosen one of her girlhood, when she, young and pretty, had left her people to wed this stranger out of India.
They had deemed her disgraced by the union.
They had been well-to-do people, and would have married her to one of her own race.
Her life had held many bitter, unhappy years, but she was proud in her way, and from her lips no word or moan had ever passed.
Children had come and multiplied, and though the wants of such people are very few, often they had not the wherewithal to supply them.
But of late years things had been better, for Mah Khine, who had a keen eye for business, had made and saved a little unknown to every one except Mah May.
The money was kept buried away in a teak-wood box in a corner of their damp, worm-eaten house.