I desire, Sir, you'll recollect yourself. “You are quite right, I think. But I want to know what you are doing. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. Courtlaw rose to his feet. You are—horrible. Very soon she would be able to forget it. 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.
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