Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and before he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. 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. " Ruth laughed. Wood. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. You understand me, sirrah?" "Perfectly," replied Jack.
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