With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face.
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