‘Quickly! You must get up. 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. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them.
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