"Bring him out, Quilt. . He had looked at it before without comprehension. Anna failed in her painting, our money was gone, and she was forced to earn her own living. It hit her just above the knee. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. 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.
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