"I can do without it," muttered Jack. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. 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. I am on my way to an aunt who lives in Hartford, Connecticut.
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