Mrs. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. He claimed me for his wife, and showed to every one a marriage certificate. If only out of loyalty to co-education one has to do that. 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. He regarded that perennial miracle of pinning with wrathful eyes. She didn’t choose her man.
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