"Your son," answered the boy. Annabel, I cannot believe it. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. “You know nothing about the stage. And there, about Saas, are ice and snows again, and sometimes we will loiter among the rocks and trees about Saas or peep into Samuel Butler’s chapels, and sometimes we will climb up out of the way of the other people on to the glaciers and snow. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. I made her my unwilling confederate. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. He pushed her back forcefully into her seat with his lips, his body automatically responding to her kiss. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories.
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