"Do nothing without consulting my father—your father, Thames," she implored. "What! you still hesitate! Will that rouse you, coward?" And she gave him a smart rap on the head. “I mean to,” she replied. I mean to have you! Don’t frown me off now. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. 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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