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. For a time they were very difficult. “It is just six o’clock now. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. ’ ‘You didn’t care. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr.
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