Only she hadn’t. 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. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. He jumped back, cursing. ’ He did as she bid him, and was very soon rewarded by the discovery of an oval miniature, encased in gold. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it. Had he been trying to get her attention before that day, or did he simply want his silly pencil returned? \"I'm John. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now.
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