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. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. His safety must be looked to. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. Even as a child she observed how men were haunted 18 by the presence of her mother. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style.
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