“No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. I’ll mention it. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. . 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.
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