But I don't look for peace on this side the grave. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. Come back—you must come back. 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.
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