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. Here again instinct guided her. It’s just because all that side of your life hasn’t fairly begun. I don’t quite know why. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes.
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