‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. ‘You are an avid reader, I take it. Superstition is the Chinese Reaper. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. And I'll have supper with you. And there, about Saas, are ice and snows again, and sometimes we will loiter among the rocks and trees about Saas or peep into Samuel Butler’s chapels, and sometimes we will climb up out of the way of the other people on to the glaciers and snow.
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