" "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. 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. \" Lucy obliged her, walking back to the entryway and slipping off the loafers. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. He was here shortly after the young man was taken ill. " He offered cigars, and Ruth got up. She looked at it with a little shudder, but she made no motion to take it.
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