Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen.
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