heathen, while Li Choo, shrinking still from the cruel blows, clucked in
his throat. There was something in the sound which belonged to the abyss
dividing the Eastern from the Western races.

That night Louise had refused to go to bed; but at last, fearing physical
force, had obeyed, and had lain with her face to the wall, close up to
it, letting the cold plaster cool her hot palms, for now she burned with
a fire which was consuming the debris of an old life--the fire of
knowledge, for which she had to pay so heavily.

"You couldn't walk even a little of the way to Tralee, could you?" asked
Orlando, when they had reached a shrub-covered hillock.

"No, I couldn't walk it, I'm so shaken. I'm terribly weak; I tremble all
over," she added, as she sat down upon a stone. "But if I don't--if I
don't go back--oh, you know!"

"Yes, I know," answered Orlando. "He's the sort that would horsewhip a
woman."

"He started to do it yesterday," she answered, "but Li Choo came in time,
and he horsewhipped Li Choo instead."

"I wouldn't myself be horsewhipping Chinamen much," said Orlando.
"They're a queer lot."

Suddenly she got to her feet. "I won't stand it. I won't stand it any
longer," she cried. "That is why to-day, although he told me I mustn't
ride, I took that new chestnut, and saddled it and rode--I didn't care
where I rode. I didn't care how fast the horse went. I didn't care what