It’s a lake among precipices, and there is a little inn where we can stay, and sit and eat our dinner at a pleasant table that looks upon the lake. Take my advice. 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 hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. . We thought of starting in half an hour’s time, and trying for a theatre somewhere on the way. God, we suck.
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