Skiing trip. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. “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. I want to leave Paris to-day. I begin to fear I might be purposely go out of the way. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time.
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