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. “I don’t know. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. Sydney Courtlaw—Mr.
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