Suddenly she understood. "Don't mention it," returned Wood, in the conciliatory tone of one who admits he has been in the wrong; "your explanation is perfectly satisfactory. In a few seconds, the shutter flew open,—then the window,—and they were in the room. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. 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. My son went down after his death.
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