His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. ” He reeled out of the room. 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. "Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me.
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