She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. 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. After quarter of an hour, she followed. “I love your sister. “This party must be so boring for you. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes.
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