‘I’ll handle her better alone. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. 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. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers.
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