You have neither reason nor logic. 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. “Are you looking for Mike? He’s working. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. Charvill did nothing to ease their path and it was left to the man to open negotiations, which he did by producing a set of folded papers, slowly approaching the general, and holding them out at arms’ length.
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