"Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. 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. He left his office at 5:39 according to her watch. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. John’s father added cheerfully, “So, do you play any violin?” She balked at the stereotype, but admitted, “Yes, I play violin. He became ugly and monstrous, dunning her, threatening her, assailing her. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp.
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