” Anna’s demeanour was still imperturbable, her marble pallor untinged by the slightest flush of colour. ‘And I am thinking now that you may be very suitable. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. 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. I’m sorry I ruined dinner. "What for?" demanded Wood. When it's done, I'll push you through.
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