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. She licked his neck, which put him over the top. Possessed, at one time, of a share in the South Sea stock, he conceived himself worth twenty thousand pounds. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned.
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