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. He remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was not born to this. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. Jack had thus been six hours in accomplishing his arduous task.
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