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. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. ” She said as the car stopped. He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry. ” He got up and went to the guest room door and locked it. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise.
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