Wood went on fuming, and the trio went on laughing for some minutes, nobody knew why or wherefore, until the party was increased by Mr. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. 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. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. The girl suppressed a chuckle that would have been inexplicable.
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