She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. A week later the manuscript was polished and typewritten, ready for the test. She had noticed a twenty year pattern emerging, and funny how opportunity seemed to strike just when she was getting truly anxious. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. 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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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 21-09-2024 22:50:42
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