" The words were scarcely pronounced, when Rowland disappeared. Go back at once, please. Though it’s very kind of you. 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. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax.
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