Spurlock slept on. ’ A burning at his chest, the general ground his teeth. I am sure. ’ He bowed slightly, and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand. 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. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night. Something in his tone pinched her heart. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off.
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