The venturous climber gazed for a moment at the assemblage beneath, to ascertain that he was not discovered; and, having satisfied himself in this particular, he stepped out more boldly. ‘Possibly,’ he said. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. 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. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again.
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