She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. The pistol fell to the floor. Wild. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. 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.
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