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. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. He, therefore, desires to interrogate him. In the afternoon she had considered certain doubts very carefully, and decided on a more emphatic course of action. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I don’t understand this change in you. But d—n him! let's talk o' something more agreeable. The young man desperately ill and the girl taking care of him! Of course, there could be only one ending to such a bout with liquor, and that ending had come perhaps suddenly but not surprisingly.
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