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. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all. " "On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!" replied Jack, passionately. "Shall I fetch the light, Captain?" whispered Blueskin. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. He forces an engagement upon her.
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