And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. 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. ’ The dimple that so fascinated Melusine peeped in her great-aunt’s cheek. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. “Thank God,” he exclaimed.
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