She heard the shower running and looked at his floor. She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. “But it still misses the nucleolus. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him. 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. “I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica. Brown. And an Englishman, which is my right of birth.
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