‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. Luck. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. “It may be her salvation. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. The perfume was the only one she ever used. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. 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. The first Step towards the Ladder.
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