the station under an umbrella, through the slush and the running water that was washing the ice of the roads bare, to stop at the pub before lunch for a vermouth. Outside we could hear the rain.
“Do you think we ought to move into town?”
“What do you think?” Catherine asked.
“If the winter is over and the rain keeps up it won’t be fun up here. How long is it before young Catherine?”
“About a month. Perhaps a little more.”
“We might go down and stay in Montreux.”
“Why don’t we go to Lausanne? That’s where the hospital is.”
“All right. But I thought maybe that was too big a town.”
“We can be as much alone in a bigger town and Lausanne might be nice.”
“When should we go?”
“I don’t care. Whenever you want, darling. I don’t want to leave here if you don’t want.”
“Let’s see how the weather turns out.”
It rained for three days. The snow was all gone now on the mountain-side below the station. The road was a torrent of muddy snow-water. It was too wet and slushy to go out. On the morning of the third day of rain we decided to go down into town.
“That is all right, Mr. Henry,” Guttingen said. “You do not have to give me any notice. I did not think you would want to stay now the bad weather is come.”
“We have to be near the hospital anyway on account of Madame,” I said.
“I understand,” he said. “Will you come back some time and stay, with the little one?”
“Yes, if you would have room.”
“In the spring when
