But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. I must tell you all about God’s land, this marvellous virgin country, with its silent forests and dazzling peaks. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you. He described her privately to himself as a splendid girl. John has made me so happy, I’ve been losing myself in him. 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.
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