" Ruth brushed her eyes with one hand and with the other signed for the spinster to stop. ” “You want to change my look, yes?” Lucy peered at her. I never hunt the human tiger without being armed. Look at me. 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. Mere formality. The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the road, if I were so inclined. “No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist.
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