Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. She remained on guard. And such skirts as Ann Veronica had had when she entered the valley of Saas were safely packed away in the hotel, and she wore a leather belt and loose knickerbockers and puttees—a costume that suited the fine, long lines of her limbs far better than any feminine walking-dress could do. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight.
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