Austin, who had been evidently schooled by Wild, maintained a profound silence on this head. She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. “Let’s go outside. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. 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. I am bothered. " "Trying to.
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