. 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 won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. "Let me go," cried Winifred. ” He admonished. ’ Still the girl said nothing. . ” “I ought to have—all the same.
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