"No ring. Hell, no girls get married around here till they're knocked up."
The door came open and a gang of woodcutters from up the road came in, stamping their boots and steaming in the room. The waitress brought in three litres of new wine for the gang and they sat at the two tables, smoking and quiet, with their hats off, leaning back against the wall or forward on the table. Outside the horses on the wood sledges made an occasional sharp jangle of bells as they tossed their heads.
George and Nick were happy. They were fond of each other. They knew they had the run back home ahead of them.
"When have you got to go back to school?" Nick asked.
"Tonight," George answered. "I've got to get the ten-forty from Montreux."
"I wish you could stick over and we could do the Dent du Lys tomorrow."
"I got to get educated," George said. "Gee, Mike, don't you wish we could just bum together? Take our skis and go on the train to where there was good running and then go on and put up at pubs and go right across the Oberland and up the Valais and all through the Engadine and just take repair kit and extra sweaters and pyjamas in our rucksacks and not give a damn about school or anything."
