She looked at her for a moment fixedly. It slid off flimsily. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. I can bear anything but suspense. 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. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. His eyes were closed. "I read those stories. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said.
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