"Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. 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.
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