Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. Nothing. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. Strange, I could never learn her history. .
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