Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. “I think we are growing sensible,” he said. 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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