“I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. The next few hours will tell. Light flooded the place. To buy the freedom of a poor little Chinese slave-girl! For what was the sing-song girl but a slave, the double slave of custom and of men? Ruth wanted to know keenly what had impelled the idea. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. I’ve called half a dozen times at her flat, and she won’t see me.
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