But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. 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. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. But, go and see who it is, love. I shall always be kind to him; I sha'n't bait him. ” There was a long silence. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. ” “I can’t be portentous, dear, when you’re about. Slash and cut as much as you please. I'll wait here. But I do not even care if I am absurd. She might even forgive him. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream.
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