’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. These thoughts, however, came to a broken end. 1. “One day,” he resumed, “we will start off early and come down into Kandersteg and up these zigzags and here and here, and so past this Daubensee to a tiny inn—it won’t be busy yet, though; we may get it all to ourselves—on the brim of the steepest zigzag you can imagine, thousands of feet of zigzag; and you will sit and eat lunch with me and look out across the Rhone Valley and over blue distances beyond blue distances to the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa and a long regiment of sunny, snowy mountains. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is.
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