I had a hunch. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. 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. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. It is very important because I have lost my proof. ” They clambered down the hill together.
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