The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. 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. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible. “Hello!” said Ann Veronica, with arms akimbo and a careless, breathless manner.
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