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. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. “His back was towards me,” Anna said.
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