Chapter VII MISS PELLISSIER’S SUSPICIONS “Anna!” Anna kissed her sister and nodded to her aunt. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. 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. “Because I hate you!” She spat. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted.
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