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A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. Here her strength completely failed her, and she was compelled to seek some repose. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. . Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here. 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.
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