. ’ ‘Then leave me to guard myself, and do not ask me questions any more,’ she snapped, and crouched down suddenly, searching about for her dagger. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. I can’t love you. ’ Hilary’s gaze was raking the room. 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.
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