She was my first love. 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. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. James's built for offices of the meanest description. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. “I don’t see,” gasped Ann Veronica, “why parents and children.
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