’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. You know you don’t mean it. She still had her letter of credit. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. “I am a fool,” he said. 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. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak.
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