He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. These starlings varied in width, according to the bulk of the pier they surrounded. Three short days. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. 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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