He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. “I am sorry for the way I acted, Lucy. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. ” “Don’t be foolish,” he said sharply. Please don’t let any one know that.
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