For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. 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. But Sheppard was not to be silenced. In Wych Street Owen Wood did dwell; A carpenter he was by trade, And money, I believe, he made. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least.
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