It was the one that she had sworn she’d throw out, if only Julian had not liked it so much. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. He wants you so, he is still a virgin. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. 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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