. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. Around her neck was a little gold chain. Towards this spot Mrs. 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. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was.
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