Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. 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. " "Oh, that!" He raised his head, staring at her in blank astonishment. There you will be, in an inner temple. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. “Actually, I am, it is terribly stupid. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go.
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