Mr. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. “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. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. ” “Couldn’t I make a treaty?” Ann Veronica thought, and could not see any possible treaty that would leave it open for her to have quasi-surreptitious dinners with Ramage or go on walking round the London squares discussing Socialism with Miss Miniver toward the small hours. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. Ann Veronica glanced at the mirror to discover a flushed and dishevelled disorder.
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