‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. Then, as Ramage readjusted himself in a corner, he remarked: “These young people shoot up, Stanley. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. The perception of him flooded her being. He might miss at this distance.
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