‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. ’ Then memory hit and he stared at his friend. 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. He will be dependent on you.
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