She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. Lucy ate without passion. ‘Wait! No time for that. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. Obviously he is still interested. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. The old aspect of the place was gone. 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. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s.
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