“More than that, he arrived to-day at the boarding-house where I am staying, greeted me with a theatrical start, and claimed me—as his wife. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. Ann Veronica said she didn’t care. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. ‘Comment? You have then met this Suzanne?’ The woman turned a deep red. 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. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it.
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