" "Mr. It was red and chapped. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. I have been imaging—” “Mr. 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 disengaged her hands and stood up. ” “Don’t imperil my reputation before I am established,” she answered, smiling. "At least I'll try," replied Jonathan, sarcastically. She leaped to a world of shabby knowledge, of furtive base realizations.
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