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. Ennison, or any other young man. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t. And she—’ ‘She!’ interrupted the young lady crossly. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. I didn’t understand.
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