Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. His conscience never told him to go back and take his punishment; it tortured him only in regard to the deed itself. We aren’t worth it. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. Can you imagine how dreadful it must be for them? Most of them arrive here almost penniless. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact.
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