The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. "Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. 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 moved a trifle, stepping back and lifting an arm to rub the sleeve against the glass. “Mr.
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