“Oh, I am lost, I am lost!” she whispered to herself. “If ever I am forced to touch that stuff I shall die of horror! Oh, this is awful! awful!”
She sprang back into the large room which she now concluded was a sort of parlor, and just at that instant she became aware that some one was watching her.
She turned to find the beady eyes of an Oriental fixed steadily upon her. He was better dressed than the others, and his fingers were covered with jewels.
“Oh, sir!” cried Marion, desperately, “for the love of Heaven, save me! Help me to escape from this place and I will reward you handsomely!”
Much to her delight the fellow understood her, but he shook his head and crept softly nearer, as he answered:
“Chi-Lung-Hing no savee, he keepee, treat allee light. Chinamen muchee love Amelican bleauty,” he murmured, glibly.
Marion shuddered as she caught the full meaning of his words. His eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of gloating that filled her soul with horror.
“But I will not stay! He shall not keep me!” she cried, in desperation. “I will set the house on fire and perish in the flames before you shall keep me prisoner.”
She spoke so firmly and her eyes gleamed with such fury that the Celestial actually looked frightened. He edged a little nearer.
“What, no love Chinaman money, Missee? No workee—no slavee—Chi-Lung-Hing mally Amelican bleauty—Dlive her plenty pletty dresses—makee her happy!”