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. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. And Capes had changed into the easiest and jolliest companion in the world. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness. Why did he care? “I could never marry a girl who’s not a virgin. Fast asleep, he is. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered.
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