He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. I will be up with my wife and daughter after lunch. 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. Remember what the conjuror said. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed.
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