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With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. It’s—Mrs. I will remember them, Sebastian, along with my mother and father, and all the others I came to love and lose. 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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