" "A fugitive. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. unless a copyright notice is included. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. He shuddered. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly.
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