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 formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. My arm's nearly well again. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up in some dudgeon. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround.
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