His tone was kind and sympathetic. Wood—and after him came his daughter. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. 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. “Lucy! You found me! I was just about to sleep some of those rum and Cokes off like the pig I am. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls.
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