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. " "Force shall not make me yours till Jack is free," replied the widow, resolutely. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy.
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