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. Why do women take to lies and deceit and trickery as naturally as a duck to water?” “You are not alluding, I hope, to Miss Pellissier?” Ennison said stiffly. “I don’t know. She learned quickly, absorbing all she could as quickly as possible as her adoration grew for him. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar. That is very certain. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger.
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