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. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to everybody throughout the whole of the meal—tonight he was almost silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna. The eggs were all right, but nobody in this part of the world had the least conception of what the coffee bean was for.
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