He had followed her into the warm and cozy sitting room, and was warming his chilled fingers by the big log fire which burned on the hearth.
"Can you ask? I came to see you."
"And how are all the experiments going?"
She turned him to another topic in some hurry.
"There have been no experiments since last month; at least not the kind of experiments you mean. The one in which I have been engaged has been very successful."
"And what was that?" she asked curiously.
"I will tell you one of these days," he said.
He was staying at the Hôtel des Alpes, and hoped to be a week in Chamonix. They chatted about the weather, the early snow which had covered the valley in a mantle of white, about the tantalizing behavior of Mont Blanc, which had not been visible since May had arrived, of the early avalanches, which awakened her with their thunder on the night of her arrival, of the pleasant road to Argentières, of the villages by the Col de Balme, which are buried in snow, of the sparkling, ethereal green of the great glacier—of everything save that which was nearest to their thoughts and to their hearts.
Jasper broke the ice when he referred to Frank's visit to Geneva.
"How did you know?" she asked, suddenly grave.