They were looking for a guide. Luck. I can be that man, the one I know you want. 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. Yes, yes, there is no doubt about it. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish.
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