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. "Ah! now we come to business," returned Jonathan, rubbing his hands, gleefully. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. "Right," said the Master, "I didn't think of her.
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