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Peter Fern was mad on mountain.Climbing was the love of his life.Church towers, seaside cliffs, rock faces, ice, mountains, anything-“If it's there,”he used to say,“then I want to climb it.”So the news of his marriage gave me a surprise.I'd never known him to take much interest in girls.Well, Peter Fern, a married man! I couldn't get over it.I wondered whether his wife would try to stop some of his risky adventures.
She was French, perhaps-from that place where he usually spent his holidays.Chamonix, wasn't it?
From Chamonix he's climbed Mont Blanc on his seventeenth birthday, and one of the Aifuilles the day after! That was it, then; she was French, from a family, most of whom like climbing.No doubt.No doubt.No other explanation.
A month I met them both in town.Anna surprised me because she was English.She was a dancer in the theatre.“Never climbed more than sixty steps in my life,”she told me.“Peter has his interests, and I've got mine.No problems.”“None at all,”Peter said, smiling.“Where did you spend your honeymoon(蜜月)?”“I flew to New York to see the drake Dancers on Broadway.A wonderful show.”Peter said,“Didn't want to miss the good weather.So I went to Switzerland and climbed the north face of the Eiger with Allen Dunlop.Great fun, the Eiger.Grand place for a honeymoon! I'll show you the photographs we took one day.”
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