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. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. I'll have my man Wu over here as soon as I can get in touch with him. ” John looked at her sympathetically.
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