With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. Gregory B. This is the way the old thief brings in all his heavy plunder, which he stows in out-of-the-way holes in his infernal dwelling. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. 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. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway.
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