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. She decided to leave this matter until the morrow and devote the morning to settling up with Mr. ” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger.
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