Have you been inhaling the fumes inside Missy’s car?” She had pushed the exact right button. “I murder people, John. 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. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound.
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