” He pushed her a dozen yards along the greasy pavement with flat, well-trained hands that there seemed to be no opposing. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. Presently he felt motion. 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. There was none.
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