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. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. “I might go home, I don’t know. ’ Melusine gasped. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. He kissed her fingers and grinned. ’ Gerald ignored this.
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