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. I don’t want a family in the suburbs and Christmases at the Florida house and summers at the Hamptons. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. “Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. “I can survive on my own. "Sold again!" "If you don't get back quickly, Lucy," observed a bystander, "Jack Sheppard will be in the house before you.
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