He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. 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. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks.
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