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. ‘Wait! No time for that. ” Annabel shivered a little and looked around her. ’ ‘Ah, that is easy,’ she began, laughing. ” “Call it what you like,” Anna answered. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. For a few minutes he kept them at bay.
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