That was something in his favour. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. 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 colored faintly. His nose was large but also fine and angular, tapering to a point at the end like a nobleman’s. She started forward.
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