"I have not trusted you. 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. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. You understand. Being a Chinaman in blood and instinct, he despised all spinsters; they were parasites. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. “I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. And a broken picture that was torn when I hit him with it.
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