She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Wild's figure. Her wedding gown! She wondered if the spirit of the unknown mother looked down upon her. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever. Her heart's in the right place, at all events; and, since that's the case, the rest may perhaps come round, —that is, if she gets through her present illness. 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. Quite ordinary.
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