Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. 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 quickly responded to her kiss and grasped her to him, kissing her deeply. But this only incensed the assailing party the more. ” She put her face closer to his. “Yes I did.
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