I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried. The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving. It was explosive and gratifying. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. It was the incendiary intellectuals of the bourgeoisie, with their militant ideas of revolution, who had raised the populace to a pitch of violence resulting in cases of wholesale slaughter—such as had overtaken the Valades. 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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