She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. ‘Never would he have gone to England. 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. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Hours were spent in preparation for the event. Blue Ruin will do the job nicely.
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