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The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. ” Her voice trembled with suppressed passion. 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. CHAPTER XII. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. \" She waved. ” “I like the mystical way better,” said Ann Veronica, and thought. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse.
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