The commissionaire smiled. 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. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. “What are you doing?” He cried. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. "Yes," replied Jack. “I only use the weeniest little dab of rouge,” she declared, “and it is really necessary, because I want to get rid of the ‘pallor effect. " Almost the identical words of the boy.
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