Tears sprang to her eyes. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. . “We’ll have to watch a movie down here. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. The girls had such freedom, a wonderful chance afforded to them to go out in the wide world before making babies, it was nothing like the world she had come of age in. She found a little difficulty in beginning.
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