‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. I must go and dress at once. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly. 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. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought.
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