“I am bored,” she said abruptly. 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. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. ’ ‘Ah yes. Opals. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. “I’ll bring it to-morrow. ” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. “I am going,” he said, “to be impertinent.
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