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. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ” “Did you say,” Sir John asked, “that the man’s name was Hill?” “Yes,” she answered. Did the other girls thank you?” “Not really. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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