Saviour's Church. And Mrs. \" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. 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 then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe.
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