Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. ‘And nor do I. As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to him before in my life. 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. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins.
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