"Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. ” “Coarse?” said Capes, “We’re not coarse. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. 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. Should be home soon. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face.
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