She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. "It's a mercy you both escaped!" ejaculated Wood, only just finding his tongue. It was—in connection with this man Hill. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. That's well. Without her, it was lonely. “We’ll go together. ” The tired woman sat still for a moment. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. 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.
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