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. Passing thought. She found herself looking sheepishly around the bedroom when a sudden tingle of electricity moved from her groin, fanning out from her belly. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. Melusine, intent on the luckless Kimble, did not care.
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