There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. 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. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. " "Mr. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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