But Rosa Mundi wasn't bad always--not at the beginning. Her dancing
began when she was young--oh, younger than I am. It was a dreadful
uphill fight. She had a mother then--a mother she adored. Did you ever
have a mother like that, I wonder? Perhaps it isn't the same with men,
but there are some women who would gladly die for their mothers.
And--and Rosa Mundi felt like that. A time came when her mother was
dying of a slow disease, and she needed things--many things. Rosa Mundi
wasn't a success then. She hadn't had her chance. But there was a man--a
man with money and influence--who was willing to offer it to
her--at--at--a price. She was dancing for chance coppers outside a San
Francisco saloon when first he made his offer. She--refused."
Rosemary's soft eyes were suddenly lowered. She did not look like a
child any longer, but a being sexless, yet very pitiful--an angel about
to weep.
Courteney watched her, for he could not turn away.
Almost under her breath, she went on: "A few days later her mother began
to suffer--oh, terribly. There was no money, no one to help. She went
again and danced at the saloon entrance. He--the man--was there.
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