" "Then I'll lend a helping hand. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. The occasion of all this confusion and dismay, meanwhile, remained perfectly motionless; his figure erect, and with somewhat of dignity in his demeanour. Don't worry about me. 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. My very sentences stumble and give way. If Mr.
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