Wood's. 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. ” He scarcely saw her face again. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination.
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