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. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. He made a note of the idea and stored it away. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. CHAPTER XVII After the Ten Commandments have been spoken, conscience becomes less something inherent than something acquired. Winifred instantly picked it up. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture.
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