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. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. Twice we hired caterers. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. But Gosse began to drag her towards the door. Was this the right moment? After what she had said about Jarvis Remenham’s habits, he could do with more information before he revealed his purpose.
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