So it was with Gosse, who had wanted to marry her. The man was my husband. 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. And now YOU’RE on the war-path. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer.
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