He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him. 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. “In Paris. Sir John followed me to London and married me. In a moment they were in the street outside. She hated living like that.
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