The woman shrugged her shoulders. Both of them. She taught me how to crochet and cross stitch. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. 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. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. And from then on we'll see them, port and starboard, to the end of the voyage. Thames Darrell III.
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