"Sure.
Better not. You won't get to the Inn till dark. Better
stay there over night, and go on up to Heyl's place in the
morning."
Then he leaned forward, clawed about expertly among what
appeared to Fanny's eyes to be a maze of handles, brakes,
valves; and the great car glided smoothly off, without a
bump, without a jar. Fanny took a long breath.
There is no describing a mountain. One uses words, and they
are futile. And the Colorado Rockies, in October, when the
aspens are turning! Well, aspens turn gold in October.
People who have seen an aspen grove in October believe in
fairies. And such people need no clumsy descriptive
passages to aid their fancies. You others who have not seen
it? There shall be no poor weaving together of words.
There shall be no description of orange and mauve and flame-
colored sunsets, no juggling with mists and clouds, and
sunrises and purple mountains. Mountain dwellers and
mountain lovers are a laconic tribe. They know the futility
of words.
But the effect of the mountains on Fanny Brandeis.
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