Mr. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. " "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. It shall be the bludgeon. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause. 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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