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. It’s all right. —'I see how it'll be,' observed Alsatia, 'everybody'll pay his debts, and only think of such a state of things as that. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree.
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