His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. Open that bottle with a blue seal, my dear. 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. That’s as far as we go. It still failed in something. Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks. Burn your palette and your easel. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. Nothing ensued.
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