” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. My son is going to build a spaceship to Mars someday right in this room. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. 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 surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. Some have no males.
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