She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things. ‘Why, that’s one of the names with which she tried to fob me off. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. It throbs cruelly.
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