Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. 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. ‘She may well try to go back. I hope you've enjoyed your health. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. You’re not to go. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it.
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