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. ” She turned a firelit face to her husband. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. 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. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. . ” He looked interrogation with a faint smile. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment.
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