” “There IS something sound in that position,” said Capes, intervening as if to defend Miss Garvice against a possible attack from Ann Veronica. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. Until he felt a sharpness digging into his coat at the point of his heart. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye.
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