If you had arrived ten minutes later, or if there hadn't been an iron bar in the chimney, that hindered my progress, I should have been beyond your reach. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. "There's his knock. Stanley. ’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders. 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 had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. "There is something in The Tale of Two Cities that is wonderful," she said. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. She's not mischievous—and besides she's chained, and can't reach you.
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