"Yes; but what is good isn't always proper. "Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. ‘Very. 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. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off. Why? What is she to you?” “I was there by accident,” Ennison answered.
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