Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. She was very pale, but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of “Alcide” as he had first known her. Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. There was something indeed holding the whole species back from the imaginable largeness of life. CHAPTER XXVI. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. .
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