On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. 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. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Observing Spurlock's spellbound attitude, he clapped the boy on the shoulder.
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