There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. “You were going to answer it?” “Certainly not!” she said deliberately.
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