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. But when she reached the pavement outside her teeth were clenched, and she carried herself unconsciously an inch or so higher. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done.
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