Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness. Her first orders were to summon the rest of her servants to make immediate preparations for her departure for Lancashire. 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. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. “It’s not.
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