At any rate she must see me. ’ He closed the panel and came slowly out of the little dressing-room, Roding at his heels. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. ‘Do not tell me he has escaped. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in.
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