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Updated: May 29, 2025
The pull-up took us about an hour and a half, and on reaching the summit, we found ourselves above the pass of the Peer Punjal, the rocky and snow-covered ranges of mountain around us gradually trending off on all sides, and losing themselves in pine-covered slopes, till they finally blended with the blue outlines of the ranges of Pills we had crossed on our route from Bimber.
'We are going away, mademoiselle, said Atlee, with a melancholy tone. 'And who are "we," sir? 'By "we," mademoiselle, I meant to convey Walpole and myself. And now he spoke with the irritation of one who had felt a pull-up. 'Ah, indeed! said she, smiling, and showing her pearly teeth. "We" meant Mr. Walpole and Mr. Atlee. 'You should never have guessed it? cried he in question.
And it's the sore tug of grief over the way things are going on down here with men, at the other end, the up-end, the heart-end, of the strings. It's the tense pull-up of a love that grows stronger with the growth of man's misunderstanding. But the heart-strings never snap. The heart itself breaks under the tension of love and grief, grieved and grieving love.
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