She answered weakly, “I’m fine, John. " CHAPTER XIX. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. 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. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating.
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