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 slid off flimsily. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. ‘Dieu du ciel, is this a way to have me say yes? If it is that you do not wish to, why do you ask me?’ ‘Ah.
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