“You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. “Much better.
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