“We have to get in, I think,” said a nice little old lady in a bonnet to Ann Veronica, speaking with a voice that quavered a little. Stanley, with an imperious gesture, “to come in here. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears.
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