He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. It was the gallows. 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. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. “Come in. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. "He's here. Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you. “I’m not gentle. "More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man.
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