"Like um China boy better," she said, in a voice so faint we had to stoop to listen. "Ah Yee's pretty good to us—plenty to eat, plenty to smoke, and as much yen shee as we can stand. Oh, I don't complain."
"You know you can get out of this whenever you want. Why don't you make a run for it some day when you're out? Cut for the Mission House on Sacramento street—they'll be good to you there."
"Oh!" said Sadie, listlessly, rolling a pill between her stained palms, "I been here so long I guess I'm kind of used to it. I've about got out of white people's ways by now. They wouldn't let me have my yen shee and my cigar, and that's about all I want nowadays. You can't eat yen shee long and care for much else, you know. Pass that gin along, will you? I'm going to faint in a minute."
"Wait a minute," said I, my hand on Manning's arm. "How long have you been living with Chinamen, Sadie?"
"Oh, I don't know. All my life, I guess. I can't remember back very far—only spots here and there. Where's that gin you promised me?"
"Only in spots?" said I; "here a little and there a little—is that it? Can you remember how you came to take up with this kind of life?"
"Sometimes I can and sometimes I can't," answered Sadie. Suddenly her head rolled upon her shoulder, her eyes closing. Manning shook her roughly:
"Let be! let be!" she exclaimed, rousing up; "I'm dead sleepy. Can't you see?"
"Wake up, and keep awake, if you can," said Manning; "this gentleman wants to ask you something."
"Ah Yee bought her from a sailor on a junk in the Pei Ho river," put in one of the other women.