The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. Men usually do. 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. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable.
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