“I suppose, Vee, you don’t see much of those Widgetts now?” “I go in and talk to Constance sometimes. There was nothing to be learned from her face. “No,” she answered. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and I wanted to get away from Paris. But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. 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. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven.
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