’ ‘I shall stop him,’ declared the old lady furiously. It was locked. 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. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. ” Ramage looked at her, and then fell into deep reflection as the waiter came to paragraph their talk again. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple.
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