” “I sent a telegram, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. 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. ’ To her astonishment, Gosse’s servile attitude vanished abruptly. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach.
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