"As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey. ” 74 She hung up the phone. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. 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. And let's see if either of these women, who prate of their love for you, will do as much.
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