"It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. 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. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.
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