‘But you do not understand, mon ami. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders.
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