CHAPTER I. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind. She laid her hand upon his arm. Take, if you please, your own pistol. It was a sovereign easily earned. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her.
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