She still could not muster the strength to leave. However this may be now, it was unquestionably true of old Newgate. 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. When Ann Veronica came into the study she found every evidence of a carefully foreseen grouping about the gas fire. “Round midnight, I think. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. ‘Shall we abandon the guard, then, sir?’ ‘Certainly not. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation.
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