Ann Veronica considered her answer. He never finished his sentence. I am the cause of his ill-usage. 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 had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. I was visiting the royal family, as they sought me for a tutor for their sons over the summer. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully.
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