"We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. ‘Get the swords!’ ‘I’ll see to him. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. 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. After much clapping, they started. In nearly every speech she heard was the same implication of great and necessary changes in the world—changes to be won by effort and sacrifice indeed, but surely to be won. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. He knew it was unnerving, he did it to everyone, even his own kin. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. We felt like thieves. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone.
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