It was not for a week or a month. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. . 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. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling.
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