“Very well,” he said. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. He had barely said, \"Anytime,\" before she shut the door rather rudely in his face. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. “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. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending.
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