Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. ” She paused. I sang to him, and he was satisfied. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. It was the girl. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. Now you can understand why I have been obliged to——” “Yes, yes, I understand that,” Courtlaw interrupted. He seemed to deliberate. She stepped into his arms. " "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff.
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