\"Where have you been, young lady?\" Mike crooned, a large grin on his fat Irish face. It'll be your own fault if you don't soon get another and a proper young man into the bargain. 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. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so.
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