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. “Shari told me. S. ’ ‘I’m not going to release you, so it’s no use complaining. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to.
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