‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. That’s one thing clear. 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. "You want me, then?" she said.
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