A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. Sheppard. She turned back into the hall. 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. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy.
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