” She breathed an inner sigh of relief. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. It’s an emerald. Take it, I tell you. 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 was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. ’ You mean you hope you do, thought Gerald cynically.
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