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. ” “Nor I,” said Ann Veronica. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. "Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger.
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