“Please forgive me, Lucy. The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. It was years before your time. 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. ” “I suppose we ARE more free than we were?” said Ann Veronica, keeping the question general. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners.
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