Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. 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. “I meant to say good-bye to you to-night. He shuddered. " Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy. ‘Melusine, don’t sit there. I’ll mention it.
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