The last that is known of Monsieur Charvill is when he departed the Valade estate. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. Forgive me. Success to our enterprise!" "Success to our enterprise!" echoed the others, significantly. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. 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. One of the coolies held the paper lantern.
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