Mr. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. ” She replied vaguely. 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. She walked with an easy quickness down the Avenue and through the proletarian portion of Morningside Park, and crossing these fields came into a pretty overhung lane that led toward Caddington and the Downs. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. ‘Oh, peste.
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