The rest was easy. 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. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. I always thought that I could find and destroy all of her children, but there was no keeping up with it. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion.
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