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” John gestured. 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 bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. She positioned it over her arm, placing the firing end in Rhea’s mouth. "I've been deceived by false information. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said.
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