As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. "'Sdeath! why am I not obeyed?" exclaimed the knight, angrily. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. A nurse was at the other end of the room. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker.
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