There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. Capes spoke casually of their plans for work. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged.
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