She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. 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. " "So you think," muttered Jack, between his ground teeth. ‘That is why I have come to England, you understand.
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