Lassitude?” “I suppose so. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. 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. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff.
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