This is a plot entirely abominable, and I scorn to be part of it. She sat in deep thought for a moment or two, and then nodding briskly, dipped the pen in the ink again and began to write. 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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