. Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. "Pigs and fish, to fend off the visitations of the devil. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. I said I’d make shirts. Never mind. Before his departure, he gave his assistant a glove. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. .
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