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. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. ‘Come, mademoiselle, it is of no use to conceal anything from me, you know. But here’s what is different this time. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. At other times, it would seem that the sea itself had gone away. " "I wish you did have some faults, Ruth. It just feels 122 right! You know it does! Don’t say no.
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