” They stared at each other through a pause, and both faces were flushed and obstinate. 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. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. Mrs.
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