Of course. He hated horizons. "Aha!" exclaimed Jackson. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. 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'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture.
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