I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. ” He looked at her gravely.
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