I am. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. 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 smiled. I hated the stuff. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness.
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