Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. You cannot refuse me this. One night she apparently fell asleep. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. There's nothing so sad in this world as an old fool," she added. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major.
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