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. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Nicholas is dead. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from.
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