She could not help but swoon a little. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. "The devil you have! Then, perhaps, you can tell me when he intends to put his threat into execution?" "What threat?" asked Jackson. Answering him was agonizing. Through no fault of her own. He folded the garments carefully and replaced them on the chair. The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that she was not quite so sure. After a day or so, perhaps, we will go on one or two little excursions and see how good your head is—a mild scramble or so; and then up to a hut on a pass just here, and out upon the Blumlis-alp glacier that spreads out so and so.
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