His French is better than mine, so he knew exactly what he was handling. 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. But one could not count with any confidence upon Capes. Sheppard. It’s not far from twilight. His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table.
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