It was hardly a question. The intonation of Mrs. Wylie's voice was by no means interrogative, and she returned placidly to the perusal of her novel without awaiting a reply. The ladies had been reading silently for at least an hour, until the younger of the two allowed her book to lie unheeded on her knee, while the pages fluttered in the breeze. 'I was thinking of Theo Trist,' replied the girl gravely. She did not meet her companion's gaze, but looked wistfully across the fjord towards the bleak dismal cliffs.…
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