47, straightening her hat and waiting for her luggage to appear. 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. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe.
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