"I have had no lack of experiences of this mortal life; but to be
bought and sold was a new one, and I was hardly in the mood to love
my purchaser."

"If I urged you upon my uncle, sir, it was that I commiserated you."
There was a slight severity in her tone, as if to reprove the mixture
of mockery and flippancy in which he seemed to be speaking.

She proceeded to explain herself. "My uncle may appear to you a
hard man. No doubt he is. They are all hard men, these planters.
It is the life, I suppose. But there are others here who are worse.
There is Mr. Crabston, for instance, up at Speightstown. He was
there on the mole, waiting to buy my uncle's leavings, and if you
had fallen into his hands ... A dreadful man. That is why."

He was a little bewildered.

"This interest in a stranger ..." he began. Then changed the
direction of his probe. "But there were others as deserving of
commiseration."

"You did not seem quite like the others."

"I am not," said he.

"Oh!" She stared at him, bridling a little. "You have a good
opinion of yourself."

"On the contrary. The others are all worthy rebels. I am not.
That is the difference. I was one who had not the wit to see that