I ought to have gone long ago. “The women are taking it up,” said Miss Miniver; “the women and the common people, all pressing forward, all roused. 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. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. You seem altogether altered, too. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph.
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