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But I will never—never return. I want to get away. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws.
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