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. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed. Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. I met a Hindu a few weeks ago who was a Harvard man. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable that it should be so. ’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. You don’t know about Mary because you live in Kent.
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