She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. It’s all very fine and all that, Vee, this freedom, but it isn’t going to work. “Mean as an old mule, too. Is there?” “Nothing,” said Ann Veronica, with a radiant face. 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 was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. There were shadows under his eyes. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. “A bad thing for me when that legacy came. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. .
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