what a wind there must be ...

it's bent out taut like a bow, you can see it against the snow, and they're bending themselves more than forty-five degrees to meet it." "All very well going _up_," murmured the mountaineer: there was a sinister innuendo in the curt comments of the practical man.
I turned into the hall.

It, however, was quite deserted.

I had hoped I might see something of Mrs.Lascelles; she was not one of those in the glass veranda.

I now looked in the drawing-room, but neither was she there.