” “If you dare—I dare,” said Ann Veronica. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. “Why not?” he exclaimed. CHAPTER XIII.
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