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. She drank her glass of wine, however, and clanked glasses good-naturedly with Mr. " The little girl's countenance fell. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. ’ ‘Then you will die at the hands of the canaille.
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