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 don’t know that I understand altogether. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. She assumed with a kind of mesmeric force all the propositions that Ann Veronica wanted her to define.
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