And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Sheppard," rejoined Winifred kindly. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. That's part of the bargain. " "Come, lad; let's have it," said McClintock. In truth, she liked Gerald also.
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