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. . Out of the beaten track! He must not appear too eager. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do.
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