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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. “All right?” he asked. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. ” “He imposed on me,” Annabel continued. He was snoring stupidly. ” She realized it was possible to be sorry for him—acutely sorry for the situation. He was disappointed when Intermission arrived.
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