I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. “Do?” “Are you prepared to do things for us? Distribute bills? Write letters? Interrupt meetings? Canvass at elections? Face dangers?” “If I am satisfied—” “If we satisfy you?” “Then, if possible, I would like to go to prison. Kind of knows it, too.
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