The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. 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.
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