Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. 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. " "O Heavens!" screamed Winifred, while her father lifted up his hands in silent horror. .
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