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. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. You just married her. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats.
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