” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired. 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. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. “Even if he lives here you may go all your life and never come face to face with him again. No means were neglected to accomplish this end. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly.
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