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. Am I going to die?” “I am afraid that you are in a dangerous state,” Courtlaw answered gravely. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. But, as this produced no effect, and did not even elicit a groan, the prisoner was carried back to Newgate.
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