But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. . I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. 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. Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. I wanted to speak to you first.
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