” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. 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. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there.
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