” “The good God!” Anna murmured, herself shaken with fear. She owed the nun a great deal, including her command of English, for no one else thought to ensure she could speak her mother tongue. 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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