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. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. " "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. . ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow.
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