e what you will for yourself, but for her, for any
other living soul, not a penny, not a cent will I give. Can you
comprehend it? Is it clear? As for giving her freedom, nothing under
Heaven could persuade me to it!"

Chapter Twenty-four

_The Ultimate Sacrifice_

She stared at him, as the blow fell, and then her glance turned slowly
to Caroline who had uttered a sharp cry and sunk into a chair.

"Help me, Ruth," she implored pitifully. "No other person in the world
can help me but you!"

"Do you see that," asked Ruth quietly of John Mark, "and still it
doesn't move you?"

"Not a hairbreadth, my dear."

"But isn't it absurd? Suppose I have my freedom, and I tell the police
that in this house a girl against her will--"

"Tush, my dear! You really do not know me at all. Do you think they can
reach me? She may be a hundred miles away before you have spoken ten
words to the authorities."

"But I warn you that all your holds on her are broken. She knows that
you have no holds over her brother. She knows that Ronicky Doone has
broken them all--that Jerry is free of you!"

"Ronicky Doone," said Mark, his face turning gray, "is a talented man.
No doubt of it; his is a very peculiar and incisive talent, I admit.
But, though he has broken all the old holds, there are ways of finding
new ones. If you leave now, I can even promise you, my dear, that,
before the next day dawns, the very soul of Caroline will be a pawn in
my hands. Do you doubt it? Such an exquisitely tender, such a delicate
soul as Caroline, can you doubt that I can form invisible bonds which
will hold her even when she is a thousand miles away from me? Tush, my
dear; think again, and you will think better of my ability."

"Suppose," Ruth said, "I were to offer to stay?"

He bowed. "You tempt me, with such overwhelming generosity, to become
even more generous myself and set her free at once. But, alas, I am
essentially a practical man. If you will stay with me, Ruth, if you
marry me at once, why, then indeed this girl is as free as the wind.
Otherwise I should be a fool. You see, my dear, I love you so that I
must have you by fair means or foul, but I cannot put any chain upon you
except your own word. I confess it, you see, even before this poor girl,
if she is capable of understanding, which I doubt. But speak again--do
you make the offer?"

She hesitated, and he went on: "Be careful. I have had you once, and I
have lost you, it seems. If