Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. " "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone. M. I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. 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.
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