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. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. ” Mr. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. I spent many happy days there.
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