Never mind. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder. "You have all the world before you. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. 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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