Once he chuckled aloud. \"I don't want to hurt you. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. ” He complained, handing it, case and all, to Lucy. 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. They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. ‘That’s just it.
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