” “Tut!” he said, fuming, and put out his hand to the papers in the pink tape. His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. 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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