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. At this juncture, a cry burst from the child, who, nearly smothered by the weight imposed upon him, only recovered the use of his lungs as Wood altered the position of the bundle. “I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. The chair is in the veranda. ” “Nobody does that,” said Ramage, and kept silence for a moment. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror.
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