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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. ‘What would you? The nuns they would not believe me, and so it was not possible for me to stay. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. “But your sister?” he asked. ” The young man accepted the letter and the message, and seemed about to close the door when a lady issued from one of the front rooms and intervened. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it.
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