Another and another of the girls passed out, all apparently indifferent to the ordeal before them.
Then the auctioneer appeared on the threshold.
On seeing him Pansy felt her turn had come, and the world started reeling around her.
She knew she passed from shadow into sunshine, that dead silence greeted her appearance on the dais—a silence that was followed by a din of wild, excited shouting.
It seemed to her that the world was nothing but eyes: the eyes of a surging crowd of dark-faced men, watching her with desire and admiration.
To Pansy, high-bred and fastidious, it was a vision of hell, this swarm of wild men looking at her with covetous desire. The Pit gaped at her feet, peopled with demons, any one of which might spring upon her.
Then the din died down to a subdued hum as men whispered one to another, their eyes still on the golden-haired girl on the dais. There was a horrible sort of despair on the faces of some as they thought of their more wealthy neighbours; lustful triumph on the faces of others as they thought of their own hoarded gold.
