She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. “All day. 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. Profligate women are never reclaimed. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. END OF THE SECOND EPOCH. Kind of knows it, too. 6. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England. See what your misconduct has deprived you of —see what you might have been. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself.
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