Where is he?" "Here," answered Jack. " Mrs. 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'll make a sketch, too," he said. " "I have no people—anybody who would care. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it.
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