The young slave leaped to her feet and fled away.

She stared at the young former slave for a long time.

By now the young Greek slave had come to and the cook was trying to rise to his feet.

But he needed only a moment more- The young slave saw what was coming.

The young slave had looked at me with rapt attention.

On Exuma, over the years, many of the young slaves had run away, taking their women with them.

It was a young slave, hardly more than a boy.

But as for me, I mourned the loss of that young slave.

The young female slave screamed in turn and began to run.

She would make a suitable wife for anyone, don't you think, my young slave?