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. ’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders. Do you hear me? Do you hear what I am saying?. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. ‘But I find you excessively rude, Gérard.
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