“Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. 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. Go to her, I say, and take her in your arms, you poor benighted Ironsides! I can't make you see. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone.
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