’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. ” He was dismissed, and he understood it. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. Her cheeks were aflame. By the intense look of him, she guessed that she had just encountered for the first time the boy genius Martin Chen. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. 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. It was impulsive and natural.
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