She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. " "May be not," replied the old sailor, drily; "but you'll find it too stiff for you tonight, anyhow. "Ruth?" "Hoddy!" she cried. 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. You seemed complete—without that. She was not a reversion to type, which intimates the primordial; she suggested rather the incarnation of some goddess of the South Seas. "I merely asked the question," he said, after he had enjoyed the boy's suspense for a moment. Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you.
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