” She nodded. 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. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. It must be somewhere hereabouts.
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