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. He was always in a state of semi-intoxication, but he was always gentle with me. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence.
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