Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. 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. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. She began to want to lay her head down on his chest but absolutely denied herself. Your purposes are defeated. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery.
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