I went to it, saw the business of selling these creatures, saw a woman of thirty, no darker than Zoe, sold to a man with a goatee, evidently from further south, who took her and led her away submissively.

Whatever the institution might be of necessity and even of gentleness in good hands, here no less was the vile business of the sale.

What would become of Zoe, was constantly in my thought.

I turned away from the slave market to continue my shopping; but I could not drive Zoe from my thoughts.
Here was I in St.Louis and necessarily withdrawn from care of Zoe.

I could not always watch over her.