‘They hold their nose up, so. 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. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. It’s—it’s a social difference. “Dare!” she said. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. The knife is at my breast. “Always planning for death. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre.
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