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. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. You got my note?” “I certainly received a note,” Anna admitted. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. “He writes very well,” said Ann Veronica. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. I do—with all my heart. Its shouting now did in some occult manner convey a protest that Mr. CHAPTER XIV Ruth lost the point entirely. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you. Thames Darrell. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield.
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