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. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. And in this fact lay his danger. CHAPTER VI Sidney Carton, thought Ruth, in pursuit of a sing-song girl! The idea was so incongruous that a cold little smile parted her lips. “Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added. The decision had been sound. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. Don’t take my word for it though. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce.
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