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 were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. . The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. Considering his convictions he felt that his remark was a generous one. Suddenly she had become afraid.
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