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. ’ ‘Don’t you dare. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. He was staring at her, openly gaping. I didn’t know he had Italian relatives. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him.
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