She could feel teenage girls from all corners of the room tensing, preparing to shriek. "Not a farthing of it shall be expended except in the Captain's service. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. 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.
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