He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. 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. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. “Was it really only this afternoon that I met you in St. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. Lady Trafford, supposed to be childless, broken in health and spirits, frail both in mind and body, is not likely to make another marriage.
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