"To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. What right had a young woman to possess the scarring and intimate knowledge of that dreg of human society, the beachcomber? CHAPTER II Ah Cum lived at No.
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