I was a novelty. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. It was hard to meet that gaze. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. 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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