Here he was hotly pursued. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. Only the strong survived. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. 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. Though a few months younger than his companion Jack Sheppard, he was half a head taller, and much more robustly formed. CHAPTER XIV Ruth lost the point entirely. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood.
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