"Oh, you'll go on with the Contessa? But I shouldn't be surprised if she were good-natured enough to wait at Chamounix to congratulate me when I come down."
"No doubt she thinks enough of you to do that. But what I mean is this: if you go up Mont Blanc, I'm going too."
"Nonsense! You'll do nothing of the kind. You are a very plucky chap, but you're not a Hercules yet, whatever you may develop into ten years from now. No minors are permitted to ascend Mont Blanc."
"That's nonsense, if you like! I shall go if you do."
"I won't take you."
"I don't ask you to. I shan't start until after you've gone, so, you see, you'll have no power to prevent me."
"You are simply talking rot, my dear boy. Good heavens, you'd die of mountain sickness or exhaustion before you were half-way up."
"Perhaps. I know very little about my ability as a climber, for I've never made any big ascents, though I've scrambled about in the mountains a little at home."
"It would be madness for you to attempt such a thing. Why, don't you know it taxes the endurance of a strong man? You've only lately recovered from an illness; you told me so yourself. I shan't allow you to––"
"You're not my keeper, you know."