” “But—” “He left her alone. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. You have to come over to my house. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. But one could not count with any confidence upon Capes. “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. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate. ‘Idiot.
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