" "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. 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 never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. ” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. " "Depend upon it, Sir. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly.
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