“I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she 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. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. “Quite on my own,” she said. She threw him his car keys. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. Michelle and Missy chatted vigorously in the front seat, oblivious to both the world and other cars on the road.
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