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. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. ’ ‘Even that he is, one must be practical. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. Here, Caliban, attend to the door, and keep the wicket locked till I return. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. The moment my escape is known, a large reward will be placed on my head. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. "Then I presume you've not been arrested?" "I have not," answered Wood firmly. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go.
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