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. I felt his heart. And this damning evidence―’ with a brusque gesture at the portrait ‘―must also be destroyed. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the road, if I were so inclined.
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