Before it is too late. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. 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. Very soon she would be able to forget it.
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