But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. She resolved to go into the City to Ramage and ask for his advice. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. ‘Quickly! You must get up. 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. But really it is much more than that.
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