In the middle of the little town stood the shop of a Jew dealer in old clothes. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. 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. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive.
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