Capes. "I cannot break my vow. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. She knew it. It will not cost you more than six hundred to reach your destination. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. 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.
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