‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. Wood's house at Dollis Hill on Tuesday'—that's two days ago,—'hasn't been heard of since. 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 how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover.
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