Nellie's wilful planks quite ignored the curve, and, as it were
afloat on them, she charged off the track, and into the Captain and the
Countess. The impact was tremendous. Six skis waved like semaphores in
the air. Then all was still. Then, as the beholders hastened to the
scene of the disaster, the Countess laughed and Nellie laughed. The
laugh of the Captain was not heard. The sole casualty was a wound about
a foot long in the hinterland of the Captain's unique knicker-bockers.
And as threads of that beautiful check pattern were afterwards found
attached to the wheel of Nellie's pole, the cause of the wound was
indisputable. The Captain departed home, chiefly backwards, but with
great rapidity.
In the afternoon Denry went down to Montreux and returned with an opal
bracelet, which Nellie wore at dinner.
"Oh! What a ripping bracelet!" said a girl.
"Yes," said Nellie. "My husband gave it me only to-day."
"I suppose it's your birthday or something," the inquisitive girl
ventured.
"No," said Nellie.
"How nice of him!" said the girl.
The next day Captain Deverax appeared in riding breeches. They were not
correct for ski-running, but they were the best he could do.
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