She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. 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. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her.
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