A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. ” Annabel rose slowly to her feet, walked to the door as though to see that it was shut, and came back with slow lagging footsteps. " "It may be; but if it shortens the distance and lightens the journey, I care not," retorted the widow, who seemed by this reproach to be roused into sudden eloquence. "I cannot climb the boat. .
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