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By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. ” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before.
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