There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. 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. For it cannot be that this Jarvis will leave the house to my father. “We’ll go together.
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