" "Never fear—never fear," rejoined Abraham, as he took up the link, and left the room. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. I didn't think. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend. 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. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets.
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