But the clock-mender bent over his work; all he was conscious of was the eternal tick-tock! tick-tock! on and on, without cessation.
* * * * * Carmichael walked his horse.

This morning he had ridden out almost to the frontier and was now on his return.

As he passed through the last grove of pines and came into the clearing the picture was exquisite; the three majestic bergs of ice and snow above Dreiberg, the city shining white and fairylike in the mid-morning's sun, and the long, half-circling ribbon of a road.

He sighed, and the horse cocked his ears at the sound.
No longer did Carmichael take the south pass for his morning rides.
That was the favored going of her highness, and he avoided her now.

In truth, he dared not meet her now; it would have been out of wisdom.