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. His hand went with an almost instinctive inquiry to his jawbone again. An ancient smile lay on his lips. "But she is saying something to me! What is it?" The hotel manager, who spoke Cantonese with facility, interpreted.
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