“It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. He said nothing. 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. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. You want me to be clean.
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