Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. “I’m thirsty. 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. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. Not up here, I think.
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