THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
Her hell began about the same time as William's, and there was but little difference in character. The sum was terror and suspense.
Not in the slightest way did Ruth associate Camden with her dreadful plight. She was positive that even now he was sending out alarms. Nor did Colburton enter her thoughts. She had reached the opinion that, sensibly recognizing the uselessness of pursuing her, he had gone back to New York.
She had often heard and read of the moral lawlessness of white men in the Far East. Some vile scoundrel had noticed her in the streets. Well, she could die.
After a while she slid to her knees and prayed.
The prayer was interrupted by the door opening again. She sprang up defensively. But the new-comer was only a pretty little Japanese girl with a tray upon which lay toast, fruit, and tea. She set the tray down on the center-table and courtesied cheerfully.
"I spig you lig English," she said, which Ruth readily interpreted as "I speak English like you."
"Do you like money?" asked Ruth.
"Umhm. I lig make mo-nee."
"Will you go to the American consulate and tell them Miss Warren is here? They will make you rich."
The Japanese girl laid her finger on her lips and nodded toward the door. This gesture conveyed to Ruth that some one was on guard outside in the hall, the blond woman probably.
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