‘Lover’s tiff indeed. 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. Let alone a girl. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion. Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. You are to remain here until you are well.
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