‘Do you think I would do to him as he made a threat to do to me? No. Earles recovered his spirits. Burn your palette and your easel. “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. He'd never forgive you. Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips.
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