To-night we leave for Marseilles. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. "Some one must have assisted him. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying along a street towards Hatton Garden. Pancras,” she directed, promptly. He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. 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. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. Were you born here, madame?’ ‘Mais non. Oh, they are married fast.
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