“My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. ‘Not where we’re going. A strange betrothal!—the primal idea of which was escape! The girl, intent upon abrogating for ever all legal rights of the father in the daughter, of rendering innocuous the thing she had now named the Terror: the boy, seeking selfcrucifixion in expiation of his transgression, changing a peccadillo into damnation! It was easy for Ruth to surrender to the idea, for she believed she was loved; and in gratitude it was already her determination to give this boy her heart's blood, drop by drop, if he wanted it. " "But, my love," still remonstrated Wood, "you know I'm going to look after the boys——" "After Mrs. He reached for her chin and lifted it up.
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