Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. . ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. They will find me dead, yes. I know very well Gerald has been fishing for information about that girl, and I am determined to find out what he knows. Then the storm broke. Do you know, Lady Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her friend. And there, about Saas, are ice and snows again, and sometimes we will loiter among the rocks and trees about Saas or peep into Samuel Butler’s chapels, and sometimes we will climb up out of the way of the other people on to the glaciers and snow. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me.
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