” “H’m!” said Ann Veronica, and shook her head. ” She was silent. ‘You are mad,’ Gosse uttered, and only just had time to get himself up from the floor. 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 never wear false whiskers," went on O'Higgins.
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