“You are talking like a boy. 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. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. She repeated this breathlessly. ‘Of course I see that,’ she said impatiently. It will take at least three weeks. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. “I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna,” she said hesitatingly. “You!” she exclaimed. " "For every hurt she has, I shall have two.
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