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. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. ’ ‘Yes, well, I was too young to see it,’ the captain said, tying a knot in his makeshift bandage.
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