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. ” “Well?” Anna remarked calmly. “Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly. Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. Then he threw the letter at me.
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