Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. In a sense I don’t care. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest.
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