“Look at me. 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. . There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. He never felt any need to explain himself.
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