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. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. “Go on,” he said. ‘We was of an age, you see, miss. “You are in luck, Miss Pellissier,” he declared. The months that followed September spiraled downward.
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