Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. ‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. You came out like an ant for your nuptial flight. I would that you were my own. 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. And that would spoil it.
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