She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. 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. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. People running, screaming, hiding. "My child!" he groaned faintly. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. "Be silent," said Jonathan, in a menacing whisper. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. He's as generous as he's frolicsome.
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