They were the only real marriages she had seen clearly. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. 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.
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