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. ‘I have no idea. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. You seemed complete—without that. God is a jealous God, and He turned upon me relentlessly. ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly. . “I killed him. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. If he succeeds there, I do not know how I can prove myself.
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