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. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman. If they come here to walk around, they will hear us. Published by Elizabeth Bailey 2012 www.
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