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The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders.
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