The man pulled up. ’ They moved to the door, while the lady shrugged, and then seated herself, glancing from the window into the street below, and then turning again to watch them in their huddle at the other side of the library. 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. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. The latter request, though treated with supreme contempt by Mr. But after that it was easy.
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