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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. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Do they, Bess?" "Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, "especially about their sons. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. ‘Anyhow, never mind that now. “You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. 3.
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