At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. I don’t quite know why. I'll put them in your room; then we'll have a look-see. Seeing John in Chemistry was the worst. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station.
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