" "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. ’ Gerald sat back in his chair, thinking hard.
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