At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. She forced herself not to think of John. I admired your chivalry. “Shhh. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. But the world didn’t do that. Then it was the woman herself who was changed. Remember, some day you and I are going to have that book. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly.
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