" CHAPTER XI. 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 wailed at Lucy, chubby arms reaching towards her, pleading. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. The one through which she had come and Gosse had entered behind her. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. ’ ‘Perhaps you don’t, Hilary,’ Gerald said mildly, smiling at the young lady and indicating one of the wide window seats. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man. ’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic.
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