Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. 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. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing.
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