The risk I run is nothing to yours. 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 found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. "Well, I'm glad she's spared this. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death.
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