It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. She addressed an envelope to Ramage, and scrawled on a half-sheet of paper, “The rest shall follow. ‘That’s my pet name. He hadn't played fair. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled.
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