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Updated: June 24, 2025
A verse or a word, the smell of a flower, a lock of hair, a turn in music, will not merely bring the past back, but invest it with a miraculous recurrency of events. The Prince's gaze endured. He stretched his hand out as if fearful lest what he saw might vanish. The gesture was at once an impulse and an expression.
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. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream. He smiled. "The Dawn Pearl!" he said, making to recline again. But she was relentless. "Hoddy, wake up!" She jerked his head to and fro until the hair stung. "What?... Oh!... Well, good Lord!"
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